


the city that nurtured my greed and my pride

by revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cognizant Revan, Dark Side Revan - Freeform, F/F, Force Bond (Star Wars), Honestly I don't know how to tag this?, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Revan and Malak were platonic life partners, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2020, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, and a third deeply fucked up person who's pissed off, and you cannot convince me otherwise, by that, cuz i'm not familiar with them, like -extremely- unreliable narrator, like a seriously in depth canon rewrite oops, probably not compliant to the comics, two deeply fucked up people falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27782851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/revanchxst
Summary: This is how it begins (though in truth, it began long before).The Jedi are getting desperate, Revan finds herself thinking as she stares at the half-trained padawan with the golden lightsaber, standing defiantly (but foolishly) among the corpses of her fallen Jedi. Oh, the girl is powerful, burning bright as Tatooine’s suns in the Force, but she’s young, grips the hilt of her lightsaber too tight as she lifts it into a defensive guard. (An admirable effort, but flawed; Revan is clearly her superior, and a defensive strategy is the wrong way to go - but of course the Jedi train defense into their padawans as the best tactic to take in any fight.)This is how it begins: a betrayal, and a bond.[or: Revan remembers.]
Relationships: Alek | Darth Malak & Revan, Canderous Ordo & Female Revan, Carth Onasi & Juhani, Female Revan & Mission Vao, Female Revan/Bastila Shan, HK-47 & Female Revan (Star Wars), Juhani & Female Revan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	1. and i'll go along with everything you say [act i]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



> i wrote this epic in four days jesus christ
> 
> this is my first actual work for kotor and let me tell you what this should NOT have been my first work. something slightly less ambitious like i originally planned would've been better. but here you go, weakinteraction - you said you like DS AUs so i hope you really meant that cuz this is. a thing. 
> 
> i used 'choose not to warn' cuz like it's not super graphic necessarily but there's definitely torture and descriptions of injuries so like.
> 
> massive shout out to elenathehun for being a fantastic beta-reader and making this fic like 100x better, and to my friend mid for being my hype man despite having only surface level knowledge of the canon.
> 
> and, finally - title is from the song "Babel" by Mumford & Sons. yes, it refers to the Star Forge.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I'll ride home laughing, look at me now,_   
>  _For the walls of my tower they come crumbling down_

This is how it begins (though in truth, it began long before).

 _The Jedi are getting desperate,_ Revan finds herself thinking as she stares at the half-trained padawan with the golden lightsaber, standing defiantly (but foolishly) among the corpses of her fallen Jedi. Oh, the girl is powerful, burning bright as Tatooine’s suns in the Force, but she’s _young,_ grips the hilt of her lightsaber too tight as she lifts it into a defensive guard. (An admirable effort, but flawed; Revan is clearly her superior, and a defensive strategy is the wrong way to go - but of course the Jedi train defense into their padawans as the best tactic to take in any fight.)

Revan twirls her double sabers - one violet, one red, the latter crystal a remnant of Korriban she’d taken with her after they’d visited - and presses her lips together behind her mask, thinking. Bastila’s battle meditation is less powerful than the Jedi have always told her it is - or rather, it’s a crutch for inferior tacticians; Revan had fought the Mandalorians and won with nothing but her own wits - but she has _potential,_ Revan would be a fool not to recognize that. And Malak is strong in the Force, but he’s nothing but a brute these days, Revan has always been the brains in their relationship, even when their only real adventures came from pulling pranks on the Jedi Masters. He has his uses as her enforcer, but if she’s going to build an empire against Vitiate, she’ll need an apprentice who truly understands her plans.

She’ll have to be delicate about this, Malak doesn’t like feeling replaced, but in the end he’s always followed her lead, from the moment they met in the Temple creche on Coruscant, and he’ll have to see the promise Bastila has. Right now, the girl’s eyes flash with barely-controlled anger, and although she’s clearly trying to suppress everything she feels her emotions are wild. The longer Revan waits to attack, the more likely Bastila will simply snap, attack first, and then Revan can let her wear herself out, can take her captive with very little struggle-

A whisper of warning.

Revan cocks her head as the Force hisses _danger_ at her, but she doesn’t have the time to understand what the warning means before the wall behind her explodes and she’s crushed beneath the weight of it.

This is how it begins: a betrayal, and a bond.

* * *

She wakes up alone in an unfamiliar room, alarms blaring through the fog in her head, a whiteness she can’t quite think past, and for a long minute she knows fear.

Then the clouds clear and settle, and Revan remembers herself.

Or - not _everything._ The last thing she remembers is facing Bastila on her flagship, a warning; Malak betrayed her, then. Well. He’ll learn, soon enough, what a mistake that was. Right now, though, that’s not exactly her main problem - she’s more concerned about the indeterminate amount of time missing from her memories. How she’d gotten to the- this ship, what she’s doing here, why are there _alarms going off._

Then the door to her room (some kind of crew quarters, she thinks, which is- a strange place to keep Darth Revan, unless this is a friendly vessel, but it doesn’t feel like one - and she doesn't know why she thinks a friendly vessel should _feel_ different) slides open, and a Republic soldier runs in.

It takes every ounce of Revan’s formidable control over herself and her emotions to keep herself from flying onto the defensive; the man is armed and armored, and she’s not, she’s in unfamiliar territory, confused, the most vulnerable she’s been in years, and something still feels foggy, like she’s been drugged. 

But the man doesn’t attack, just introduces himself as Trask Ulgo, says he’s her “bunkmate from another shift”, explains, a little too thoroughly, that they’re on the _Endar Spire,_ that she’s supposedly Shala Dral, some kind of… smuggler the Republic has recruited, that they’re under Bastila Shan’s command. At first none of it makes sense, but Trask keeps shooting her narrow, lingering looks, as he directs her to the footlocker holding “her” equipment and tells her they need to get to the bridge to find Bastila (and Revan has to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out, acid-sharp, that Bastila’s a Jedi and capable of holding her own, that a two-credit Republic grunt and the smuggler she’s supposed to be wouldn’t do much more than get in Bastila’s way), and slowly some things start to click into place.

For some reason, Trask Ulgo really thinks she’s not supposed to know who she is. 

She remembers the foggy feeling of drugs or- something mind-altering, figures that’s why he’s spoon-feeding her a backstory, an explanation; the drugs must be supposed to keep her from questioning the information, or making her so confused she internalizes it. But drugs wear off eventually, and there’s no way the Republic _or_ the Jedi Council would risk Revan being free. 

And why would they make her a smuggler? Revan is the most powerful Force-sensitive the Jedi have seen in centuries, there’s no _way_ they could hope to hide that from even an amnesiac version of herself. The only reason she can’t feel every lifeform on board this ship and their basic emotions is because her shields are up. Maybe they’d thought her subconscious would remember how to shield, or maybe they hadn’t thought that far ahead.

It doesn’t make sense.

The _Endar Spire_ shudders around her (she’s very familiar with the feeling of escape pods or boarding craft slamming into the hull of a ship), drawing her out of her reverie, and Revan shakes herself, pulls on the folded suit in the footlocker, and then hesitates as she reaches for the blaster she knows she’s supposed to grab. If she really were a smuggler…

But she is angry, and vulnerable, and maybe even a little afraid (not of Trask Ulgo, not of the boarders, but of what’s been done to her, because someone or something has _messed with her mind_ and she has no way of truly knowing what they did), and so she looks past the blaster, sees a shoddy vibroblade hanging on a weapon rack against the far wall, strides across the room and grabs it, testing the weight and balance. It’s not a well-made weapon, and it feels clumsy in her hands compared with her lightsabers, but it’s a quiet defiance against this entire theatre she’s been forced into, and right now that’s what matters.

Revan makes her way through the _Spire,_ dealing with a handful of Sith soldier patrols as she goes - Trask is a good shot but every time he fires his blaster from just behind her she has to stifle a flinch. She’s not sure if he knows who she is, beyond _possible danger to the Republic,_ and the not knowing makes it worse. (If he knows who she is he’d have every reason to shoot her in the back, and vibro-weapons don’t deflect blaster bolts.)

But they reach the bridge without incident, or at least without the kind of incident that leads to Revan being shot in the back, giving her her first real view of the situation. The bridge is abandoned, except for the dead bodies, both Republic and Sith, but there’s clear evidence of a fight everywhere Revan looks, and a planet spinning in the viewscreen. While Trask is distracted searching the dead for anything useful, Revan slices into the computers on the bridge (it’s really pathetically easy, Republic security codes and protocols haven’t improved since she enticed half of their Navy and the entire Army she’d made for them to follow her into the Unknown Regions ), discovers they’re currently in rapidly-decaying orbit around Taris, which is controlled by the Sith army and being blockaded by half the Sith fleet. They hadn’t conquered Taris (as Sith) as far as Revan can recall, so Malak must’ve done it on his own - and that means she’s missing at least several weeks of memories.

There’s a familiar trilling sound and Revan pulls the palm-sized holocomm out of her belt, responds on autopilot as she’s hailed by a soldier named Carth Onasi, an earnest-looking man who informs her that she and Trask are the last two people on board the _Endar Spire,_ besides the Sith.

Part of her almost can’t believe they’d risked Revan dying in the fiery inferno the _Spire’s_ crash will be, but then again, she’s sure the Republic and Jedi Council both would be more than relieved to get rid of her in a way they don’t have to feel guilty for. (It’s hardly a surprise; the Jedi Council doesn’t have the resolve to get their own collective hands dirty - that’s part of why she’s always disliked them, why she had to leave. _Someone_ has to make the hard decisions.)

After she hangs up the comm, but before she heads for the escape pods, Revan takes a moment to look over the crew roster as it’s recorded in the _Endar Spire’s_ datalogs; she almost skips right past the fake name, catches herself just in time - she’ll have to get used to responding to it, after all - and scans the entry. There’s nothing unique about it, just a notation of how long she’s been stationed on the ship (two weeks), and a small addendum: _watch closely._

Two weeks. And before that, enough time to heal completely from whatever injuries she sustained; even with Jedi healing that leaves her with at _minimum_ two months missing time, and that’s not even counting the memory loss she’s still feeling. Oh, it’s nothing huge, but there are gaps, things she knows she used to know. Comm codes she’s had memorized since the Mandalorian Wars, dates and names… hyperspace coordinates.

(Malak has the Star Forge. And all she can remember is that she _must get it back.)_

She finds herself mulling over the losses as she and Trask leave the bridge and make their way towards the escape pods; the hyperspace coordinates are the most worrying, because to get those back she’ll have to search out the star maps again, and that’s not exactly an inexpensive venture. It’s not exactly _safe,_ either, despite the fact that she remembers the defenses she set up to guard the maps; it isn’t the kind of journey one makes on their own.

She’s distracted, the weight of everything she’s learned in the last half an hour since she woke up dragging her mind away from her current situation - that’s her only excuse for not sensing Bandon until she opens a door and comes face to face with Malak’s favorite underling. Revan had allowed, even encouraged Malak training his own apprentice, had thought it would keep him occupied from plotting against her. Bandon hadn’t been anything close to a threat to her power, after all, another narrow-minded Sith too focused on bloodlust and destruction and petty bullying, though he’d had the power to back that up. She’ll pay for that oversight now, unprepared for anyone with any real power, with nothing but a cheap piece of metal (not even cortosis) and a second-rate Republic gun to her name - oh, how far the mighty Dark Lord of the Sith has fallen.

Force take it, she should’ve scavenged the lightsabers off that Jedi and Sith they’d encountered earlier, no matter that it would’ve been too strange, too revealing.

Bandon doesn’t recognize her, she can tell immediately; he’d never been incredibly in-tune with the subtleties of the Force to begin with, and who would be expecting to see the dead Dark Lord in a Republic uniform without a lightsaber? He sneers at her anyway, clearly entertained as she brings up the vibroblade into an offensive stance (it’s her only chance, the blade will only take one hit from his saber and she doesn’t have a replacement), and then Trask shouts and charges through the door, and it closes and seals behind him.

Well. Shit.

Revan only encounters a couple more patrols before she reaches the escape pods, and she finds herself grateful for that; however long she’s been gone from the galaxy she’s lost some of her fighting edge, and although she doesn’t hesitate to use the Force mercilessly now that she’s not being watched, it’s still all more exhausting than it should be. 

She’s going to need help getting to the star maps, that’s for sure.

* * *

Trask hadn’t known exactly who she was, Revan decides, after giving it some thought. He’d certainly known she was someone dangerous, someone who had to be watched, but he hadn’t known she’s Darth Revan. At first, she thinks Carth does: her only ally (how convenient that is) talks about how _the Force can do terrible things to a mind_ and looks at her like he’s seeing someone else, or like she’s a tragic story, but he’s also a _terrible_ liar, and he doesn’t stumble over her false name. He tells her all about Bastila, is even on first-name terms with the Jedi, tries harder than he needs to convince Revan they should go rescue her. Of course, if Revan really were a smuggler who enlisted with the Republic Army for a steadier, more legal paycheck, she would probably be thinking this seems to be a great time to desert, so maybe it does make sense.

And Revan does consider leaving all of them behind; she knows Sith protocol well enough she could easily get off the planet. But it’d be suicide to try and confront Malak now, without any kind of power base, when he’s still in control of the Star Forge (the heart of her empire, she _knows,_ but everything else is faint, slipping away from her like sand through her fingers when she tries to grasp at the details - and the tighter she tries to cling to it the more she loses), when the empire she built from her bare hands has forgotten her.

She needs an apprentice.

She needs _Bastila._

Not for the girl’s battle meditation, but for her raw power, for the way her emotions fly like sparks of lightning, and because Malak has always been jealous of people who hold power he doesn’t, and Revan knows her old apprentice will want to take Bastila and crush her.

And she can’t find and rescue Bastila on her own, not on an unfamiliar planet (she’s been here before, once, when they liberated it from the Exchange, but that was years ago now, and things have changed with the Sith occupation), which means she needs Carth, however much she doesn’t trust him.

“We better find Bastila,” she tells him with a perky smile that doesn’t at all match how she actually feels, but Carth is satisfied, and that’s the important part, for now.

* * *

The Lower City is bleak enough, ruled by gangs and criminals (Revan’s constantly having to swat away potential pickpockets), but the Undercity is truly dismal. Everyone she sees is unnaturally pale no matter their skin tone, shies away from bright lights, and has a kind of hunger about them that sets her nerves on fire. They beg her for help like she’s some kind of savior, and normally Revan would embrace this, but there’s an awareness whispering in her mind, constantly, that their time is ticking away, that the longer she spends here on irrelevant tasks the less likely she’ll be to get Bastila and get away from here. The entire planet feels like it’s a graveyard, even though it’s bright and bustling, a kind of premonition thrilling down Revan’s spine whenever she looks too long at the people.

Psychometry has never been her strongest gift, but she has enough of a talent with it to give her an advantage in old ruins - it’s how she’d found the star maps so easily, how she’d been able to connect to the Star Forge as soon as she’d set foot in it. Between it and the constant swirl of whispers from the Force _(run, hide, leave)_ Revan can barely clear her mind. “This place is sickening,” she tells Carth in a murmur, as they cross through the gate to leave the village, too distracted to pay attention to the wails of the woman who’d just lost her partner to the rakghouls.

Carth looks at her a little strangely, but nods, says, “I don’t much like it myself. It’s too dark down here.”

The darkness isn’t what bothers Revan, not really, but it doesn’t exactly help either, so she just nods shortly and picks up the pace, tightens her hand around the hilt of her vibrosword where it rests on her hip. It irritates her, a little, that she’s already starting to get used to its weight, adjusting her stances to make up for its imbalance. She needs a lightsaber if she’s going to do this properly, or even better, two sabers: fighting with one blade is something she can do in her sleep, but she still finds herself instinctively shifting into combat forms that require two. It’s habit. She’s found enough cheap vibro-weapons and plain old knives she could go back to two-weapon fighting, but none of them are properly balanced, and it would just make things more difficult.

The world is eerily silent around her and Carth, except for the distant scuffling of rakghouls, who come out of the shadows in packs of five or so at a time to attack them; they fall into a comfortable routine quickly, back to back, Carth taking shots at the further away ones while Revan handles the rakghouls that get up close and personal, and they don’t talk much as they do it. The atmosphere around them doesn’t lend itself well to relaxed conversation.

When Mission stumbles into the small circle of light cast by Carth’s light, Revan nearly stabs her out of instinct. Carth gives her an irritated look, like his hand didn’t go for his blaster, and Revan can’t help rolling her eyes. Part of her almost wishes he knew who she is, so he’d stop looking surprised (or annoyed) every time her battle instincts kick in. (Like he doesn’t have those same instincts, honed by the Mandalorian Wars.)

When Mission isn’t immediately followed by her hulking Wookiee friend, Revan knows something’s wrong; the girl’s tearful explanation confirms it, and Revan sighs and grits her teeth, shakes her head a little. They don’t have _time_ for this, but she’s never liked slavery (it’s so much better to make people love you, even if you’re a dictator they’ll support you and work to hold you up the entire way - although when love fails fear is an adequate substitute), and Mission refuses to help until they get Zaalbar back, so she sighs and starts for the nearest sewer entrance.

The Dark Lord of the Sith, traipsing through the Tarisian sewers with a burned Republic soldier and a half-wild fourteen-year-old thief. HK would never let her live it down.

* * *

They rescue Zaalbar, and Revan sends him back to their grimy apartment in the Upper City to recover from his injuries. He swears a lifedebt to her before he goes, and Revan finds herself thinking _I can use this._ Why make the Wookiee a slave when instead he’ll serve her willingly? Some people (Malak) just don’t understand.

The raid on the Vulkar base goes about as well as expected, though it would be so much easier if Revan could openly use the Force; it leaps to do her bidding, like an eager puppy, but she’s consigned to only using it in subtle ways, to nudge aside an opponent’s strike or a blaster bolt that would’ve struck true, to enhance her reflexes as she ducks and dodges. Mission has no frame of reference for Revan’s extra speed and flexibility, but she catches Carth watching her thoughtfully at times, a considering light in his eyes. She throws him a grin and a wink once, because it’s amusing, and because it serves to keep him from thinking she’s analyzing him.

Wouldn’t want him to think too deeply about her actions, after all.

The wink serves its purpose, and Carth rolls his eyes at her (although there’s a small smile in the corner of his mouth, which she appreciates - it’s taken long enough to get him to let his guard down at all around her, the man has some serious trust issues) and goes back to taking carefully aimed shots, but Revan knows he’s still watching her, making decisions. Carth isn’t dumb by any stretch of the imagination, and he served in the Mandalorian Wars, he knows what Jedi reflexes look like. Hopefully he explains it away as untrained Force sensitivity and leaves it at that.

Mission is so incredibly _young._

The Twi’lek has street smarts, sure, and she’s tougher than she appears, but her emotions swing in a wild pendulum and her insecurities are on full display for anyone to see. She’s strangely naive for an orphan and it shows when she talks about her brother, and when she’s ready to turn on Gadon after a two-minute conversation full of blatant lying and manipulation. Revan files that information away for later, just in case - it’s always wise to know your allies’ weaknesses, for the eventuality that they become your enemies. (The practice has served her well many times in the past, and will now, again, with Malak.) Still, even with Mission very nearly ready to turn her back on a man who, Revan assumes, has basically raised her for the last few years, they manage to acquire the prototype accelerator and dispose of the last of the Vulkars.

Revan smiles as she strolls out the front entrance to the swoop gang’s base, casually stabbing her vibroblade into the door guard’s neck as she passes him, before he has a chance to shoot. It’s nothing like fighting the Mandalorians, or facing five Jedi on her own and taking them apart without them landing a hit on her, but it’s the most fun she’s had in days, probably since Malak’s betrayal, and there’s something about single-handedly destroying an entire organization (even if it is just a swoop gang) that feels exhilarating.

“You’re in a good mood all of a sudden,” Carth says, nearly accusatory, and Revan shrugs, turns to look at both him and Mission, walking backwards down the street.

“What, do you have a monopoly on enjoying taking down a corrupt organization?” she asks archly, raising an eyebrow. Mission hides a giggle behind one hand and Revan marks that as a success. “Funny, Carth, I wasn’t sure you enjoyed much of anything.” 

Mission’s giggle turns into a full-on laugh, and the teenager gasps out, “You know, she’s got you there, old man,” darting out of the way as Carth aims a half-hearted swat at her shoulder. The soldier is smiling now, though.

He’s loyal, she thinks. If she can turn him to her side…

(Carth tells her about Saul Karath later and she thinks that turning him will be both easier and far more difficult than she’d expected.)

It’s with a pair of chuckling, bantering companions that Revan walks back into the Bek base, accelerator in her hand, that much closer to finding Bastila.

* * *

Carth doesn’t know who she is. Mission is, for the most part, clueless to the actual state of the galaxy beyond her world. Zaalbar is clearly more informed, and Revan will have to tell him at some point - he deserves to know who he’s sworn a lifedebt to - but he has no way of even recognizing her voice, unlike Carth.

Bastila, though.

Bastila knows.

In the whirl of the fight that follows after Revan wins the swoop race and the Vulkars try to withdraw their “prize”, Bastila is vulnerable, newly freed from the collar and cage, weaving the Force around her in a wave of rage and joy, mental shields abysmally low (Revan refuses to believe the girl hasn’t been properly trained in shielding, the Jedi aren’t _that_ negligent, and after all she’s one of their better weapons, isn’t she? The Last Hope of the Republic or however Carth had put it), and once all the gang members have fallen Bastila tightens her hands on her stolen vibrostaff and turns to Revan, and for a moment she’s about ready to launch herself into another attack.

“You-” the Jedi starts, and Revan raises an eyebrow, because even if she’s pretending she doesn’t know who she is, the girl’s tone is too-obviously _recognition,_ “-you’re from the _Endar Spire,_ both of you.”

“We’re here to rescue you,” Revan says, casually cheerful, still riding the high that is fighting with another Force-user by her side (emotions bounce freely back and forth in the Force, the exhilaration and adrenaline rush and the thrill of it all amplifying exponentially when there’s more than one person projecting), and she has to stifle a laugh at the look on Bastila’s face.

Back at the apartment, Revan sits on the narrow windowseat, one knee pulled up against her chest, the other leg dangling out the open window, much to Bastila’s consternation and Mission’s delight, and hums a cantina song under her breath as she considers her next move. Bastila and Carth are arguing about something regarding leadership in the background, and Revan privately agrees with Carth - Bastila’s certainly been acting like a stuck-up princess since they rescued her. It’s not entirely far off what Revan was expecting of her, if she’s honest with herself, though she’d been expecting someone a little less… shallow.

Of course, Bastila then apologizes, and Revan reminds herself not to make assumptions.

Bastila looks much more comfortable now that she’s away from the Lower City, a double-bladed lightsaber on her belt that Revan had found on the Vulkar leader and Bastila had claimed had fallen off her belt during the crash, thus allowing her to get captured to begin with. Carth had actually laughed at that, and even Revan had found herself amused, though tinged with an ever-present anger. Revan would never be able to _lose_ her lightsabers; crystals sing as strongly in the Force as another person, when they’re directly bonded to you, it’s so easy to just open your mind and listen and call and _will_ your saber back to your hand. But it wouldn’t be surprising if the Dantooine Council (the ones who trained Bastila, and certainly the worse Council when compared to Coruscant; every Jedi she’d met from Dantooine during the war had been stifled in the Force, wrapped with chains too similar to the ones she sees holding Bastila back) had entirely forgotten what it’s like to seek out your own saber crystal, to harvest it yourself and build your own saber around it. Revan’s never forgotten the feeling, when she’d found her first violet crystal, the one she’d lost on her flagship - she’s still bitter about that. 

Still, even with these new revelations, Revan stands by her original assessment of Bastila: she’ll make a wonderful Sith, and there’s a strength in her, a fire, even if it’s heavily suppressed. Bastila seems determined to pretend she feels no emotions at all, as if the very concept of feeling anything invalidates her identity as a Jedi.

(Revan remembers when the Jedi cared about compassion. When she left the Order behind to _save people_ and so many followed her, because they could not abide sitting back while innocent people died.)

(Revan remembers when those Jedi, the only _true_ Jedi, died.)

Revan dedicates herself to breaking that wall down, a chip at a time. She knows how to turn a Jedi, has done it so many times before; it’s more difficult when she has to pretend to be a spacer with no concept of the Force at all, but Bastila has been acting- odd, and it takes Revan delicately probing the Force to realize, _ah._

The little Jedi has a crush.

And isn’t _that_ interesting, because it’s so obvious that Bastila knows exactly who Revan is, and yet when Revan shoots her a wink she blushes and looks away, and there’s a faint trace of attraction in the air.

The poor girl must be repressed beyond belief and have very little freedom outside the Enclave to latch onto Revan so quickly, despite everything. The attraction will probably fade in time, but if it doesn’t… well. Revan can use this, too.

* * *

Their small group is in the Upper City cantina while Mission swindles the rich nobility out of their credits in pazaak and Revan busies herself beating every available contender in the dueling ring (the fights are fun, if they’re really pathetically easy, and a good way to get back into fighting shape) when the Mandalorian shows up.

Revan had seen him before, in the Lower City - Canderous, she remembers, the local Exchange boss’ enforcer - and it’s clear he recognizes her as well, as he ignores the patrons staring at him and crosses over to where she’s leaning against a storage canister, rebraiding her black hair after her latest duel. The offer he makes her is too good to pass up - a free ride off Taris, just when she needs one? It’s almost suspiciously convenient, but there’s no dishonesty in the Force, and Bastila agrees with that (it’d been a risk to bring Bastila with her out of the apartment, but the girl was going crazy being cooped up, and the internal countdown Revan’s had ticking since the moment she woke up here has been getting ever more urgent), so Revan quietly agrees to raid the Sith base and bring him their targeting codes.

As soon as the Mandalorian leaves the room she turns to the Hutt duel organizer and levels him with a piercing stare, pulling on every intimidation trick she’s ever learned that doesn’t require the Force and pushing into his space.

“You repeat one word of that conversation to anyone and you’ll never see another duel,” she says, low enough so Bastila can’t hear her, and just barely lets some of the Force into her eyes so they wash gold for a heartbeat. Ajuur pulls back, skin going bright green in fear, and Revan smiles, shark-sharp and satisfied. “Play nice,” she says, louder, “and I’ll let you officiate a death match between me and Bendak before I leave.”

And there it is, the carrot and the stick. Ajuur nods, as much as a Hutt can, recognizing the amount of credits he’ll see if a death match goes off, and Revan turns on her heel and strides over to where Mission has just fleeced a man out of some hundred credits, Bastila falling in line behind her almost out of habit. (It’s not Revan she’s used to following, it’s _anyone.)_

“Come on, Mission,” Revan says, clapping her hand onto the disappointed-looking Twi’lek’s shoulder. “I’ve got a better use for your negotiation skills.” 

Mission cheers up at that, tosses her pazaak partner a lazy salute that would make Carth cringe, and scoops up the pile of credits into a small belt pouch, tossing it at Revan after a moment’s thought. She chatters about how easy it was to con the rich idiots in the Upper City, _I should’ve come up here way sooner, Big Z and I coulda been living it up,_ as Revan leads them to the south side, to the droid shop Canderous had mentioned. A bit of negotiation, a charming smile and a brush of the Force so soft Bastila barely notices and she’s haggled the shop owner down to a thousand credits for the T3 unit, though after the purchase is made the woman looks over the credits with an almost confused face, like she isn’t quite sure why there are so few. The problem with weak suggestions; they wear off so fast. Thankfully the woman doesn’t call Revan back or challenge her as she leaves, the astromech cheerfully beeping to itself as it follows her.

Revan sends Mission back to the apartment to let the others know what’s going on, and that she and Bastila might not be back until late, and although the teenager sulks about being left out of the action, she agrees, and so soon it’s just Revan and Bastila casually strolling towards the Sith base at the far end of the city spire.

“Mission would’ve been invaluable here,” Bastila says quietly, as they pass another Sith patrol. “Yet you sent her back.”

Revan shrugs, says, “She’s a kid, this isn’t any place for her. Besides,” and she shoots Bastila a smile, “I barely know anything about you,” true, technically, “I thought we could get to know each other more.”

The Jedi actually flushes, looks away for a moment before saying, a little haltingly as she reaches for her customary haughty tone, “I hardly think that’s appropriate. I’m a Jedi and you’re-” Bastila fumbles before finishing, “a smuggler. Which, actually, is something I wanted to ask you about.” She doesn’t say anything else though, and Revan finally realizes she’s actually waiting for permission.

Interesting. “Ask away, I’ve got nothing to hide.” Which is _also_ true, in a sense, because really, if Bastila focused and thought about it she could probably figure out that Revan isn’t as brainwashed as she’s supposed to be.

“It couldn’t have been an easy task to find me at the swoop track,” Bastila says, thoughtful, “yet somehow you managed. You also avoided detection by the Sith, discovered I was a Vulkar prisoner, gained sponsorship to the race, and became the Taris swoop champion. That’s quite a resume.” She almost sounds impressed, though it’s tempered by something like caution.

“And rescued the damsel in distress along the way,” Revan teases, winking, just to see the look on Bastila’s face. (Alright, so maybe she has more than one reason for cultivating the attraction Bastila feels for her, but that hardly has any relevance.) It’s all-too-easy to slip into the casual confidence of the spacer personality she’s supposed to have. “I’m talented, what can I say? Though I doubt I would’ve gotten that far without Carth and Mission.”

Bastila looks amused, but she hardly shows it when she speaks. “A Jedi could’ve done all these things, of course, but only by drawing heavily on the Force. In fact, I think there’s no other explanation for your great success: the Force must be working through you.”

Of all the things Revan was expecting Bastila to say, admitting she’s Force-sensitive was certainly not one of them. She blinks, not having to feign surprise, although it’s for the wrong reasons, not that Bastila seems to realize that.

“Perhaps if you weren’t- Well,” the Jedi continues, clearly once again cutting herself off before she reveals anything, “perhaps if you were younger the Jedi would take you in for training. As it is, though…”

Bastila _knows_ who Revan is, and knows what’s been done to her. From what Carth had said earlier, Revan was only on the _Endar Spire_ at Bastila’s request, which speaks of the Jedi Council, at the least, being aware. And if the Jedi know… _the Force can do terrible things to a mind._

So all of this is the Council’s doing.

Revan smothers the flare of anger and responds, a little sharper than she means, “What are you trying to say?” The Jedi Council can’t seriously believe they can just… erase Revan and retrain her, can they? Do they really expect to put Revan back on the leash she’d broken years ago when she walked away to fight?

“I’m sorry, I overstepped my authority,” Bastila apologizes, and Revan shakes her head, cuts her off before she can say more.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get those codes so we can get off Taris.” Revan isn’t sure how much longer she can stand feeling like she’s surrounded by living ghosts, and she really doesn’t want to discuss the Jedi or the Council, not right now. Her control is _good,_ but the constant Force-induced urgency has been wearing on her, and just because she’s the Dark Lord doesn’t mean she’s infallible. Malak’s betrayal had proven that to be all too true.

It’s surprising, really, how easily the raid on the Sith base goes, despite the fact that it’s broad daylight out; between the surprisingly handy astromech, a Jedi (and a skilled one, no matter how much better she _should_ be by now, with her talent - look at where Malak had been when he was her age, Revan had been better than him but he’d still been _good,_ the two of them preparing to go to war), and a Sith Lord in hiding they make quick work of the base’s defenders. The Sith governor barely puts up a fight, though he crows about how powerful he is - more powerful than them, and all because he’s harnessed his anger. Revan’s certain the man can barely recite the Sith Code and understand it, much less properly access the Force. No wonder he hasn’t gotten a lightsaber yet.

She finds the command codes for the Sith guns and a thousand credits on the man’s body and tucks them both away, securely. A death match in the dueling ring with Bendak tonight, and then in the morning they can head down to Jayvar’s cantina to meet Canderous and finally get off this planet, and then Revan can start looking for the star maps. Maybe she can even convince the Jedi to help her - and wouldn’t that be ironic?

Either way, her time on Taris is coming to an end, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

* * *

Malak hasn’t learned a Force-damned thing.

* * *

(Revan still remembers Malak on his knees before her, half his jaw missing, looking up at her with terror in his eyes; there’d been no blood, lightsaber wounds don’t bleed, but he’d had one hand clutching at the injury anyway, trying to gasp out words but barely even able to make guttural sounds. Both her sabers are ignited and her cape is still twisting from the fury in her strikes - she’d thrown him against the wall the moment she’d stormed onto the bridge of the _Leviathan,_ the vessel she’d given him as his own command, held him pinned there even as he struggled to free himself, and attacked him with both blades. He’d barely managed to free himself enough to block her first few strikes, and then she’d batted his saber away easily and tore one saber through his jaw, leaving him unable to speak and barely breathing, crumpled on the floor.

 _You should’ve known better, you brute,_ she snarls, stalking closer to him, gratified to see him cower back. The Dark burns in her eyes and wraps around her like a second cloak, and she feeds on the fear that causes among some of the officers on the bridge. Most of them are used to her and Malak’s confrontations by now, but there are some newer recruits, and she supposes they haven’t figured out she’s not here for _them_ yet. _What a waste of a planet._

Malak, conveniently, can’t argue, though defiance flares in his eyes, fading away immediately when she takes another step towards him. She knows the argument he wants to make anyway, something about showing their strength. As though their _strength_ will be anything but a provocation to the survivors, now.

 _Only a fool makes a show of strength by destroying the people he’s trying to intimidate,_ she snaps, disdainful. _It’s better to rule with an open palm than a closed fist._ That _is how you form an empire, Malak: you make them love you, and you use fear carefully, as a tool, to keep the ones who don’t love you in line. Until you learn that you’ll never be anything more than my enforcer._ Malak’s face crinkles in rage that billows from him into the Force, and Revan deactivates her red saber, closes the distance to him and grinds the edge of the hilt into the wound on his jaw until it spurts blood and he wails. _We don’t glass planets. Understand me? Make this mistake again and I won’t be merciful._

And she turns and strides from the bridge, leaving her apprentice a bloody, weeping mess on the floor behind her.)

* * *

Revan is still shaking with fury four days later when the _Ebon Hawk_ arrives at Dantooine. Mission hasn’t left her bunk in the crew quarters since they’d gone into hyperspace, other than for necessities, and Revan knows better than to push her. Carth has been unusually withdrawn too, but she’s more willing to press him - that’s how she finds out his homeworld, and his losses, and suddenly his hatred of the Sith army makes more sense. It’s not just betrayal.

Telos. Malak had thought it a show of strength to destroy the defenseless planet with an orbital bombardment, the same way he’d glassed Taris. Revan had thought she’d made herself perfectly clear to him after she’d learned of his actions, but clearly, now that he thinks she’s dead, he’s decided he’s free to be as sadistic as he wants. The man will crush the life out of the galaxy under his hand and leave them defenseless against the Empire building in the Unknown Regions, and then everything will be lost. It’s not like the _Jedi_ would have any hope of fighting back that Empire, after all, weak and stagnated as they’ve become. They’d hidden away from the _Mandalorians,_ and as bad as Mandalore the Ultimate had been, Vitiate is a thousand times worse.

Revan thinks it’s an admirable showing of her self-control that she hasn’t spent their time in hyperspace pacing and thinking out loud and that they’ve made it to Dantooine without her revealing herself. And while Dantooine is clearly a respite for Carth, Mission, and Zaalbar, Revan finds herself constantly struggling to control her anger there.

It’s much more difficult than it should be, and it’s all due to the way Bastila completely shuts down the moment they enter the Enclave.

She’s quiet, that fire Revan _knows_ burns within her so deeply smothered Revan’s almost afraid it’s gone out completely, hardly daring to speak her mind, seeming so eager to please the Council she doesn’t dare disagree with them, even when Revan can feel her discontent roiling behind her shields.

And that’s interesting, as well - the revelation of the bond between them. Revan hadn’t been expecting that, although she’s a little disappointed in herself for not sensing it sooner: gossamer-thin but strong as a durasteel cord. Revan reaches out and brushes against it, sees Bastila jerk a little in surprise across the room, and hides a smile; it’s been difficult to pretend unfamiliarity with the Force, to fake a struggle to learn, but it’s been worth it to finally be able to use the Force openly again. She’s missed it, so much.

The Council sends her to go cleanse their “sacred grove” after some month of training, in which Revan spends half the time ignoring their lecturers, then parroting the information back word-for-word (she remembers too much of this from the last time she’d been through Jedi training). The Masters are constantly surprised at how quickly she picks it up, and she just shrugs and smiles and says she’s always been a quick learner.

Which is true. She’d taught herself Ancient Rakatan, after all.

Vandar talks about a _taint_ in the “sacred grove” she’d actually believed all their talk about the _first_ time they’d sent her to be tested there, and she expects some of Malak’s thugs; it’s a perfect test, really, see if their little mind control experiment will make her kill her own for their cause. They say she can’t bring Jedi help, which really just means Bastila, so she takes Canderous and Carth with her, because an astromech would struggle with the grasslands, and Mission’s finally ventured out of the _Hawk_ for the first time in days to go play cards and Revan doesn’t intend to disturb her.

As soon as Revan sees what the taint she’s supposed to dispel really is, she orders Carth and Canderous to go back to the Enclave, or make themselves useful and figure out what the kriff Mandalorians are doing here. Carth argues, but Revan gives him a _look,_ weighted with all the command she possesses from her years of General, and he silences himself and follows Canderous without another word (though she catches him frowning as he does it, like he doesn’t totally understand why). Canderous, for his part, is perfectly happy to go hunting his own people. What else would you expect from a Mandalorian?

That leaves Revan free to approach the small meditation shrine on her own, and to reach out to the young Cathar within.

Juhani fights like a wild thing, but she doesn’t know what she’s doing; she’s in pain, and scared, and angry even, and she’s simultaneously trying to use those emotions and terrified of them. She tells Revan, after falling to her knees in surrender, that she’d thought her darkness was more than enough to crush anyone, and Revan cannot control her _rage_ at all of this. 

So for once, she doesn’t.

“Juhani,” she says, softly. “You have a choice to make. The Council would take you back, of course, if you repented, if you showed you don’t feel anything at all - and you could go back to trying to be perfect for them,” and she lets a dark snarl come into her voice there, sees Juhani look up, surprised, ears twitching a little. “Or you could learn to lie, and I could teach you to _properly_ harness your emotions, so that no one will ever use you again.”

And she holds out her hand and waits, patiently.

* * *

Revan tells Juhani who she is, and what the Council has done to her, once she’s certain the Cathar won’t spread the secret around. Juhani is still clearly unsure, but she’d taken Revan’s hand after only a minute of consideration, a dark shade to her voice when she said she didn’t want to be used by anyone. The girl’s probably had some experience with slavers, given her species, and it would explain the venom in her eyes. There’s bitterness there, and while bitterness isn’t the ideal start for a fallen Jedi… well. Revan isn’t going to complain. With Juhani it’s possible she won’t even need Bastila by her side, but Malak is going to go after the other woman whether or not Revan turns her and it would be a nice touch. Besides, Revan finds that she genuinely likes the girl, when Bastila forgets her Jedi self-righteousness.

Revan doesn’t go directly back to the Enclave after she sends Juhani back; part of that is a simple contingency, just in case Juhani decides to tell the Council the truth. There won’t be much Revan can do, in that case, with no lightsaber, alone, but she’ll be damned if she’s not going to put up a fight anyway. Still, after a few hours she hasn’t heard anything, and that’s probably a good sign - she comms Canderous to check in on him and to confirm nothing strange has happened with the Jedi. The Mandalorian tells her he and Carth found several groups of his people in the plains and dealt with them, but were unable to track down their leader, so they’d headed back to the _Hawk,_ and no, nothing new from the Council, why, was she expecting something?

Revan just thanks him for the report and starts the long trek back to the Enclave alone.

She makes a quick detour, though, because she remembers the rumors she’d heard, of a natural crystal cave in the plains, and she knows instinctively that somewhere there is a violet crystal to replace the one she lost. She crawls through a kinrath cave and comes up into a world of light and color, and for a few minutes she almost feels like a child again.

Revan returns to the Jedi Enclave with a pair of crystals tucked securely in her pocket, ready for when the Council finally lets her build a lightsaber.

She doesn’t see the Council again until the next day; Vandar tells her how she did an “excellent” job bringing Juhani back to the path of the light (oh, if only he knew the truth), and how what happened to Juhani should serve as a warning to her, to remember how easy it is to stray off the path of the light.

“I’ll remember, Master,” she says, low and quiet, and keeps her hatred under tight shields. (She’s sure he can still feel it, but he won’t know who it comes from, and that’ll unnerve him more than knowing it’s hers.)

* * *

The ruins on Dantooine are only a couple of hours away from the Enclave, but Bastila has never been there. It’s almost sad, Revan thinks as they cross the hard-packed dirt and dry grass; the girl looks so much freer, out here, taking deep, lingering breaths, even pausing to admire a small tuft of wildflowers struggling to grow. On impulse, Revan bends down to pick two, stepping around behind Bastila and tucking one flower into each band holding her hair back. “There,” she says, softer than she means. “Since you liked them so much.”

Bastila reaches one hand up to just barely brush over one of the flowers, looks up at Revan almost seeming confused, and for the first time she can remember Revan finds herself flushing a little.

“We should keep moving,” she says briskly, starting forward again, but she’s stopped by Bastila’s hand on her wrist, just the slightest amount of pressure before she drops her hand again.

“...Shala,” Bastila says, a pause while she searches for the fake name. “Thank you.”

* * *

Revan remembers the ruins, and they remember her: a calm, quiet force of nature, confident in her decisions, a saber-calloused palm feeling out the catches in the ancient stone doors. This, too, they remember: the shadow at her side, uncertain, but following faithfully in Revan’s wake.

The ruins remember Revan, and they remember her apprentice.

* * *

Two days later, Revan and Bastila meet with the Council again, for what Revan hopes is the final time; she’s growing tired of having to constantly lock down her hatred of them. She’s starting to feel a bit like Bastila, chafing at the restrictions set on her, desperate for the freedom of empty space, the galaxy spread out before her, just waiting for her to choose where to go.

She’s given up trying to completely hide the constant anger she feels - now, in this final meeting, she lets the Council feel it, spreading out to fill the room like a pool of cold blackness, leaving them glancing around, unsure, unable to pinpoint the source but knowing it’s someone or something close to them. Revan doesn’t smile, merely keeps her head down, the perfect picture of an innocently brainwashed Jedi trainee, but she’s amused by their discomfit anyway.

Then, of course, she has to wonder if Bastila can feel that amusement, and she locks it down quickly behind shields, just in case. She can’t risk a slip-up now, not when the Council has finally agreed to send her off to hunt down the star maps. They tell her Bastila will be going with her (unsurprising, they need Bastila to watch and make sure Revan doesn’t remember herself, because wouldn’t that be just the worst possible thing), and that Juhani has also requested to come, and that they’ll allow her to keep the companions she met on Taris, how gracious of them.

“Thank you,” she says, gravely, like their approval matters, and as quickly as she can she escapes to the _Hawk._ Dantooine is a respite, they’d tried to tell her, as though she could ever feel anything but anger here, when her entire code revolves around breaking chains and the Council seems to revel in binding anyone they can. Still, Bastila might want to come back, and Revan finds she’s not entirely sure she could deny her that.

Juhani is waiting for them, and though she looks the picture-perfect of Jedi humility, she catches Revan’s eye and smirks the tiniest bit - an acknowledgement that the plan worked. Telling Juhani her plans, to find the source of Malak’s power and take it back and destroy him, had been a risk, but she’s grateful she’d gone through with it now that everything is falling into place. Revan needs an apprentice who understands her plans if she’s going to remove Malak and successfully build her empire, and in the event she _can’t_ manage to properly turn Bastila, Juhani will do well.

“Everyone ready to move on?” she asks, leaning against the navicomputer’s display, preparing to set the coordinates for Tatooine - get the worst planet out of the way quickly. Manaan isn’t going to be much better, in terms of where the star map is hidden, but at least the rest of the planet isn’t terrible. “We’ve got a lot of traveling to do.”

“Just say the word,” Carth says, dropping down into the pilot’s chair, his tone turning wry as he continues, “I’m sure Canderous will keep us plenty busy with his war stories.”

Canderous scoffs, but Revan cuts him off, says, “I find them interesting, personally. Setting a course for Tatooine.”

And as the _Ebon Hawk_ leaps into hyperspace, Revan’s eyes find Bastila, who’s standing behind the copilot’s chair, and drift to the pair of wilting flowers tucked into her hair.

Revan isn’t entirely sure what to do with the warm rush that sends through her, but for now, she just lets herself smile and _feel_ the moment, content in the knowledge that she’s finally away from Dantooine, and one step closer to taking back her empire.


	2. and i will play my bloody part [act ii]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You'll build your walls, and I will play my bloody part_   
>  _To tear, tear them down_   
>  _Well I'm gonna tear, tear them down_

Of all the places her assassination droid could’ve ended up, a backwater droid shop in _Anchorhead_ of all places is hardly where Revan expected to find him.

But the moment she speaks to the shop owner about the droid she’d been told could translate the Sand People’s dialect for her, she hears familiar servomoters whirring, and she turns unerringly to the back corner of the shop to see HK, battered, his Mandalorian plating and top of the line weapons stripped - the poor droid, she’ll have to outfit him again properly as soon as she can.

“Jubilation: Master! You have returned!”

“I’ve never gotten it to speak before,” the shop owner says, and Revan eyes him for a minute, then silently passes him a pouch of credits (less than half what he’s asking for, but if he argues with her, well) and crosses the shop to her droid.

“It’s good to see you again, HK,” Revan says, and smiles at him. “But I need you to be careful - I’m supposed to be brainwashed,” and she lowers her voice, slips from Basic into Ryl, which she’s sure the shopkeeper doesn’t speak. “I’ve been pretending I don’t know who I am, and the only person who knows is the Cathar you’ll meet on the ship, Juhani. I’m training her to be my new enforcer.”

“Argument: Master, you are more powerful than any of them! You should not have to hide who you are from your followers.” HK sounds genuinely upset, and Revan smiles fondly. “Suggestion: I could exterminate the hesitant meatbags for you, leaving only your loyal followers.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” and HK makes a sound like a scoff, “but I don’t want anyone exterminated… at least not now. We need to get you fixed up so you can help me kill Malak.”

HK is disappointed at the lack of terminations, but much more eager at the thought of hunting down and killing Malak. The two of them have always had an odd rivalry - not surprising on HK’s end, her droid has always been possessive of her attention, but she’s always thought it strange that Malak would respond to HK’s jibing, to the point of being _upset_ when HK called Revan “Master”. It’ll annoy Malak greatly to bring him along when she finally kills him.

Bastila is surprised when Revan sends Canderous back to the _Hawk_ in favor of the rather beat-up “protocol” droid, but Revan promises she has a reason, and after a minute Bastila agrees to accept the answer, and they start off towards the gates of Anchorhead.

It takes only a couple of days, and Revan is an honorable liberator for the Jawas, Oathkeeper to the Sand People, and nobody in Anchorhead dares to raise a hand against her. When Malak’s thugs attack her in the streets (claiming they’re after Bastila, which is either a lie or it’s true and Malak still doesn’t know Revan’s alive) they face the blasters of half the port in addition to Revan’s violet lightsaber and Bastila’s gold one. (Revan hasn’t brought her red saber out, yet - doesn’t know what Bastila’s reaction to it will be, can’t risk scaring her away. It’s built, though, and just waiting for her to take it up.)

Revan loots the lightsabers off the bodies, tucks them away in her pack, and then pulls the credits the Sith had been carrying out of their pockets and makes eye contact with the people around her for a moment, before turning to walk away and casually tossing the credits over her shoulder to lay in the sand. A reward, for the citizens of Anchorhead who came to her defense.

They’ll remember her, when she returns, head of the Sith fleet once again, and they’ll welcome her.

This is how you build an empire.

(Malak has never managed to learn that, no matter how hard Revan tried to teach him. That, too, is his downfall: he never learns.)

* * *

Helena Shan is all sharp edges, irate and blustering and razor blades slicing into Bastila’s emotions. Bastila is _angry_ at her mother, hurt and trying to hide it, and yet her mother’s words goad her into lashing out, into a bitter selfishness Revan hadn’t realized the girl had in her. Revan, for her part, is exhausted and more than done with the entire situation; she’s _covered_ in sand, even inside her robes (and Force does she miss her breastplate and cape; they wouldn’t have kept the sand out completely but it would’ve been better than this) and in her boots, and her second trek out to the krayt dragon’s lair in as many weeks had been even worse than the first one.

She’s tempted, _so_ tempted, to just tell Bastila to keep her father’s holocron and leave, but across their bond Revan can feel that part of Bastila just wants to embrace her mother again, that she _misses_ her. That her anger is more of a reaction to her pain and longing than anything true, and that she will regret this.

So Revan reaches over and puts a hand on Bastila’s shoulder, squeezes gently, brushes her pinky finger against her neck briefly, a moment of contact intended to be a reassurance. “Forgive her, Bastila,” she murmurs. “She’s your mother, she’s ill, you may not get another chance.”

Bastila turns, looks surprised. “You’re hardly one to lecture about forgiveness,” she says, nearly snapping, and Revan knows abruptly that, in this moment, Bastila isn’t speaking to the lighthearted spacer, but to Revan herself. Bastila realizes that too, and she pales, adds quickly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- you’re right, of course. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi to hold a grudge.”

Revan shakes her head a little, squeezes Bastila’s shoulder again before pulling back, notices a flair of disappointment from Bastila at the loss of contact. “That’s not why I said you should forgive her.”

“Oh,” Bastila says, softly, and for a moment she holds Revan’s eyes, and Revan can feel her probing the bond between them - she wonders if the Jedi even realizes she’s doing it. Revan lets her feel her sincerity, though, and _why_ she’d made the suggestion, and she feels something inside Bastila _shift,_ the anger slowly starting to fade as Bastila finally looks within herself and acknowledges her feelings for her mother in all their thorny complications.

“You know,” Helena mutters, “I’m not getting any younger here.” The comment is wry, probably meant to break up the seriousness of the scene, but it makes something twist in Revan’s chest.

Without looking away from Bastila, she says, as sharp as Helena’s been to them this entire time, “You’re lucky I care for your daughter, woman, or I would never be encouraging her to forgive you.”

Bastila startles a little, her mind spinning on the other end of their bond, and Revan finally looks away from her, though she absently soothes her with a pulse of reassurance, a _yes, I mean what I said._ Bastila is too used to people only professing to care for her, then withdrawing that care as soon as it doesn’t suit them. Revan has never been like that, and the day she is, she deserves to lose her entire empire and more besides. She uses people, yes. She uses their feelings, yes. Revan has always been honest with herself, and all too often manipulating someone, even slightly, will bring about the outcome she wants.

But she will _never_ pretend to care for someone, not like this, not when it actually matters.

Bastila reconciles with her mother. And on their way back to the _Hawk,_ as Revan soldiers ahead, attempting to shake some of the sand out of her hair (it’d come out of its braids during a particularly irritating fight with some wraids and when one had managed to tackle her into the sand, well, Tatooine sand is thick and powdery and it _clings_ incessantly), Bastila slows, pauses as Revan steps onto the _Hawk’s_ ramp.

“Shala,” she calls, and though the word takes a moment to pierce the tired fog in her mind, Revan registers it after a half-second and stops walking, turns to look back over her shoulder. “I wanted to thank you, and not just for earlier. You’ve… treated me better than I deserve, and I’m sorry I’ve not been- right with you.”

“What do you mean?” Revan asks, not for the first time, and her confusion isn’t entirely feigned - Bastila can’t really be bringing up the attempted mind wipe now, can she?

Bastila hesitates, for a long moment, and Revan can feel a desire for honesty in her warring with her sense of duty; it’s a long, drawn-out battle, but eventually the Jedi sighs as her duty wins out. (Revan finds herself feeling almost disappointed, even though she’s not entirely sure what she’d do if Bastila had attempted to reveal the Council’s game.) “I’m sorry, I- these are matters best left to the Council. Just know that I appreciate you more than you know, and I’ve… come to rely on you, I believe.”

It’s a different sort of admission than the one she’d been gearing up to say, Revan thinks, but it’s an admission all the same, and so Revan smiles and thanks her - normally she would’ve teased the Jedi, but right now everything feels too serious and tired for that. Still. _I appreciate you more than you know._

The words bring back memories of faded flowers twined into dark hair, and Revan finds herself softening as she heads into the crew quarters, stripping off her sand-filled clothes. She’d planned to closet herself in the nook with Juhani for a short teaching session, but she’s too tired now to bother; she merely finishes shaking the sand out of her hair and crawls into her bunk, and curls up to sleep, holding onto the warmth she’s feeling.

She can no longer quite make herself include Bastila in the list of people she blames for her current position.

* * *

(Revan is beautiful when she sleeps. Bastila Shan shouldn’t notice this, nor should she think of her companion as _Revan_ \- that invites too many near slips like the one earlier. How Revan- how _Shala_ hasn’t caught on yet Bastila doesn’t know, because the other woman is far too good at reading and manipulating their bond. It shouldn’t be possible yet; Shala’s only had a couple of months of retraining, and even the subconscious instincts she should still have wouldn’t be enough to give her such complete command over the Force. The ways she uses it, too, from subtle layers woven into her voice as she haggles a shopkeep down in price, to a surge of energy that leaves an enemy doubled over and grabbing at their chest - they’re all far more advanced than she should know. It leaves Bastila on edge.

But right now, it’s hard to think about that, or even to remember why Revan was so dangerous in the first place; the older woman is asleep on her bunk, curled up, back to the wall, dark hair messy and spread across her thin pillow. In sleep, her face is relaxed, some of the iron control she possesses let loose, though all Bastila can sense over their bond is contentment and something like peace. And oh, Shala is so tightly controlled, even her wry quips and sarcasm and teasing flirts (and contrary to Carth’s supremely not-asked-for opinion, _yes,_ Bastila is aware that Rev- Shala is flirting with her, and _yes,_ alright, Bastila can admit that she enjoys it, even if the woman is occasionally insufferable) seeming too precise to be entirely spontaneous. Shala rarely lets an emotion show that doesn’t benefit her in some way, Bastila has picked up on that much through their bond.

Maybe it’s a subconscious holdover from Revan. It shouldn’t intrigue Bastila this much, the fact that there’s so much _depth_ to explore, if only Shala would let her. She shouldn’t have felt disappointed, earlier, when Shala had taken her hand away; shouldn’t have felt so strangely comforted by the touch. 

Shouldn’t have felt such a rush of searing _warmth_ when Shala had said _I care for your daughter._

But Bastila can’t quite help herself, and that scares her, a little. She’s trying so _hard_ to push these feelings down; after all, they’re more likely than not just an infatuation born of the intense bond between the two of them. Feeling each other’s emotions and thoughts is an intimacy that’s nearly disturbing, and in the face of that intimacy, developing… feelings for each other is only natural. So Bastila tells herself as she stands in the middle of the port side crew quarters and fights with the urge to brush Shala’s hair off her forehead.

The physical attraction is bad enough, but it’s manageable - Bastila has had to stifle such urges before, usually done by exploring herself late at night with a robe between her teeth to muffle any noises. But it’s the… the _care,_ the tenderness, the desire for even the most mundane acts of intimacy that is truly frightening.

Jedi do not have such emotions. And Bastila wants nothing more than to be a good Jedi.

(Bastila is very good at lying to herself.)

“Hey, lovebird, think you could move out of the middle of the room?” Mission’s voice comes from far too close behind Bastila to be a comfort, and the Jedi startles, spins around, kicking herself for being so distracted she hadn’t noticed the young girl sneaking up on her.

 _“Mission,”_ she hisses, “could you be any louder?”

“Oh, come off it,” Mission says with a shrug, dropping down onto her bunk and scooping up her pazaak deck. “Everyone already knows, there’s a betting pool going on for how long until you give in. You really aren’t as subtle as you think you are. Pazaak?”

Bastila blinks, processing this information. Of course, in hindsight, it’s obvious that Shala would know at least some, but the thought of the other woman knowing just how _much_ Bastila is struggling… Imagine if the _Council_ knew she secretly harbored feelings for _Darth Revan!_ Any chance she has of being a Master would be gone, just like that, and she’d be lucky if they didn’t expel her.

But Mission is still looking at her expectantly, so Bastila sighs and drops down to sit on the bunk next to the teenager, shaking her head. “Only if it’s Republic Senate rules, I know you cheat,” she says.

In the bunk next to them, Revan sleeps on.)

* * *

Revan doesn’t let HK leave the ship on Manaan.

Her droid complains, _loudly,_ whenever she’s in earshot, but Revan is firm: the Sith have a large presence here and it’s too much of a risk. If word gets back to Malak that an HK unit has been seen in the same port as the _Ebon Hawk,_ he might make connections, and that’s dangerous. She isn’t ready to reveal herself yet, not until she’s swept through the Academy on Korriban, five star maps in her hand and the entire Academy rededicated to following their true Dark Lord. 

Bastila is oddly subdued, too, has been since they left Tatooine; when Revan informs her she’s heading out into Ahto City, the Jedi replies that she’d really appreciate a break, for now. It’s odd, but Revan shrugs and has Juhani and Canderous accompany her instead, as she makes her way to the Republic embassy. It’s not ideal, but the trip gives her a good chance to teach Juhani - the Cathar is visibly irritated by the humid salt air and the smell of the natives, but she’s also eager for more instruction, and Revan enjoys walking and quietly discussing the minutiae of possible interpretations of the Sith Code.

If all goes well, she’ll be able to have a similar discussion with Bastila too, at some point.

The Republic man she meets with is ridiculously polite, even as he tells Revan that he’s afraid he simply can’t help her until she helps him. Revan’s half tempted to choke him for a moment until he changes his tune, but even without Bastila there it would cause too much of a fuss, so she grinds her teeth together and agrees to get his _kriffing_ data back. Mission would’ve had a few choice words for him, Revan thinks, it’s almost too bad she didn’t bring the teenager along.

It’s unfortunate it’s been so long since she was captured; the security codes for the Sith base have almost certainly changed since then, and Revan doesn’t know where in the rotation they are. She’s forced to interrogate the Sith prisoner in the embassy, although the man overseeing the interrogation keeps throwing clumsy threats of violence in that nearly ruin everything multiple times. Finally, though, he gives her the code, and Revan sets off to assault the Sith base she once could’ve simply strolled into.

Not a single one of the Sith inside the base prove a challenge, although Revan sits back a few times to give Juhani some practice at fighting multiple enemies on her own, only stepping in when it looks like the Cathar needs help. When she does finally intervene, a red saber joins her trademark violet one; Bastila isn’t here, Revan can reveal this part of herself as much as she’d like. None of the Sith in here will survive long enough to understand what it means, and Canderous couldn’t care less.

They find the information the Republic man was after, as well as a group of younger Force-sensitive Selkath the Sith had been training. Revan is nearly cheerful as she gives them a quick lesson of her own, informs them also that half their teachers are useless, and that most of the Sith here are dead. “Keep encouraging your friends to join you,” she tells them, “and be ready for my return. I’ll want the Selkath to accept me.”

The students don’t really understand what she’s insinuating, and Canderous is guarding the door, but Juhani smiles a little at the statement. Manaan has been neutral for too long - Revan will force them to make a choice, all without lifting a finger. The Selkath youth will make the decision for her.

The Republic man is pleased by her efforts, which he damn well better be, since Revan barely manages to smooth her way out of the trial she faces as soon as she leaves the Sith base behind. He tells her about the Hrakert Rift research station, the way it’s gone silent, and gives her access to the submersibles in the next room. Juhani balks as soon as she sees the rather claustrophobic vehicle.

“I won’t go down there,” she says, ears flat against her head. “Cathar do not belong under the ocean.”

“Fair enough,” Revan sighs, rubs at her temples. “Go on back to the _Hawk.”_

As soon as Juhani is gone, Revan pulls out her holocomm and inputs Bastila’s frequency, leans against the wall and makes an irritated face at Canderous as the Jedi doesn’t pick up right away. It’s another moment of static on the line before Bastila’s face finally comes into view - she looks oddly flustered, though Revan isn’t sure why. “What is it?”

“We’re ready to go down into the ocean after the star map,” Revan says, “but Juhani doesn’t want to go underwater, so I sent her back. Can you meet me at the Republic embassy?”

There’s a pause and Bastila looks away for a minute before, “Mission’s been complaining about being cooped up, why don’t you bring her? You know she enjoys going places with you.”

“Bastila…” Revan softens, against her will, sighs. “I need you. Please?”

It’s the first time Revan can remember sincerely using the word _please_ around any of her companions.

Bastila must realize it too, because something crosses her face before she nods. “I’ll be there shortly,” she says, and then cuts the connection.

When Revan looks up, Canderous is grinning at her.

* * *

(Carth thinks he has entirely too much time on his hands. Sure, he’s pretty much in charge of all the paperwork and the _Ebon Hawk’s_ finances - Shala had figured out early on that he’s used to keeping books and such and had immediately left the administrative side of their whole mission to him - but he spends too much of his time on the _Hawk,_ playing pazaak against Mission (when she hasn’t gone out to supplement their income by cheating the locals) or reading or thinking. Shala never seems to want him along with her, though she’s perfectly fine with him picking up small jobs or supervising Mission’s attempts at swoop racing, so he ends up with a lot of free time. 

Which means he has ample opportunity to observe the rest of their little almost-family.

And there’s something that’s been weighing on his mind recently, about Juhani.

When they’d first left Dantooine, the young Cathar had spent most of their downtime on the ship watching Shala with a vaguely hopeful and eager expression, and sure, they’d spent some time together, usually off by themselves, but recently it’s been like Shala hasn’t even known Juhani exists, she’s spent so much more time focusing on Bastila. Not that the other Jedi seemed to _mind,_ exactly, but lately Juhani has been looking more and more frustrated every time she starts to offer to go with Shala, only to be talked over by Shala asking Bastila instead. And Carth has been a father too long not to notice.

He’d been relieved, then, when Bastila had declared she was sitting Manaan out, and Shala had turned to Juhani, offered the young woman a smile, and Juhani was already on her feet and grinning in return. It’ll be good for Juhani to spend some time with the person she clearly idolizes a little - whether that’s because of Shala’s hand in returning Juhani to the Jedi or some other reason, Carth doesn’t know and doesn’t entirely care to figure out on his own.

So he’s surprised, to say the least, when several hours later, the Cathar comes stomping into the _Hawk’s_ main room, dropping down to sit on the couch with an irritated look on her face. He’d noticed, distantly, Bastila leaving the ship not long before, but hadn’t made much of it; it’s not like any of them are trapped here or anything.

“Hey, Juhani,” he says offhandedly, glances up from his datapad - Shala had given him her notes on how she intends to gear up her new assassin droid, who she’s _far_ too fond of for Carth’s tastes, and left it to him to figure out where exactly in their budget they can spare three thousand credits just for _plating._ “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I didn’t want to go to the ocean floor,” comes the response. Juhani sounds unreasonably frustrated for that to be the only reason, and so Carth waits patiently until she bursts out, “She didn’t even try to convince me to stay! Just commed _Bastila_ before I’d left the room.” 

Carth nods, wishing he was surprised. He likes Shala, he really does, but she’s really rather blind to a lot of people’s feelings, despite her occasional claims to the contrary. “I’ve noticed she spends a lot of time with Bastila these days, I wouldn’t let it get to you too much.”

“I would’ve gone with her if she’d asked me,” Juhani says. “She’s supposed to be _training_ me, but I think it’s obvious I’m just her second choice.” It surprises him how _bitter_ her voice is, though not entirely - he remembers Dustil complaining when Carth left home again to sign up for the Army, to fight the Mandalorians. Dustil had had the same bitterness in his voice back then.

“What kind of training?” Carth asks, because he’d been under the impression that Juhani had more Jedi training than Shala did, and because he knows better than to try and focus on that bitterness right now.

Juhani _freezes,_ for a minute, then says, awkwardly and clearly lying, “She’s much better at fighting than I am, so I asked her for some tips.”

“We’re going to have to work on that,” Carth mutters under his breath - one should always be able to lie their way out of a tough situation, just in case. “Well,” he says, “I’m almost always around if you need to talk. Shala isn’t much interested in me right now either. And I can promise you, I’ll always listen.”

Juhani looks thoughtful, and after a minute she flashes him a hesitant smile. “Would you like to hear about what we did today?”

“I’d like that very much,” Carth says, truthfully. He’d made the mistake of not listening to his son once. He won’t make a mistake like that again.)

* * *

Revan has never been claustrophobic.

She thinks the Manaan seafloor may have changed that.

The world is _different,_ so far down below the surface; surrounded by sharks and so much water the weight of it could kill her, entirely alone, unable to even talk to Bastila or Canderous, left back in the dry part of the Hrakert station as they are, Revan finds herself shivering, and it’s not entirely from the cold of the ocean.

She hasn’t really been so utterly _alone_ since she woke up on the _Endar Spire,_ and it’s a little frustrating how uncomfortable it makes her. She’s gotten too used to her crew, and the Shala spacer personality has become nearly natural. Malak would laugh, if he saw her now.

But being a Sith, being _Dark Lord_ of the Sith, that doesn’t mean Revan _has_ to be so alone; she’d kept herself separated from her lieutenants, because they were too weak, had felt, by the end, nothing but cold scorn for Malak’s graceless fumblings as he tried to capture her praise (how well he’d hidden his plotting, she hadn’t thought he could be subtle).

Revan has always been able to inspire loyalty in her subjects, so easily; that’s why so many Jedi and soldiers followed her, when she led them into the Mandalorian Wars, and why so many stayed with her when she turned on the Republic that’d birthed them all. Somewhere in all the conquest, she thinks perhaps she’d forgotten her own teachings, of love over fear. She’d held herself so far above the rest of them they’d never had any reason _not_ to betray her.

Perhaps Malak has done her a favor, in this, giving her a wakeup call. Now, when she takes back her rightful place, when she forms her empire, those closest to her will have no reason to turn against her.

Revan finds herself narrating her journey into Bastila’s comm channel as she walks, to distract her from thoughts of Malak; there’s nothing but silence in return, she won’t be able to pick up any responses, and she rather doubts Bastila will be picking up anything other than garbled static, and really, Revan thinks this is all too personal for anyone to be hearing, but it helps with the crushing weight of the depths.

“I find I don’t entirely know how to be alone anymore,” Revan murmurs, pauses to shoot the device in the suit’s fist at a firaxan shark that’s gotten too close for comfort. “You mentioned how you’ve come to rely on me, Bastila - I don’t think I really realized, until now, how much the reverse is true as well.”

There’s nothing but that ever-present silence in response, and Revan shakes herself, takes another breath of canned air, and presses onwards.

By the time Revan drags herself out of the airlock, she’s exhausted enough Bastila has to help her peel off the suit, but she manages a triumphant smile. “Got it,” she says, reaching into the suit’s pouch to reveal the map. “Let’s hope we never have to do this again.”

She startles a laugh out of Bastila, and even Canderous looks amused, though he just shakes his head a little. “I can’t say I’ve enjoyed this myself,” Bastila responds, and she looks tired herself - it wouldn’t surprise Revan if she and Canderous had had to deal with more of the insane Selkath or rogue droids while they waited hours for Revan to return. As they walk back to the submersible, Canderous pulling ahead, Bastila drops her voice low and murmurs, “I heard you.”

It’s Revan’s turn to start, just a little, and she turns to Bastila. “Through the comm? I didn’t realize the signal would transmit.”

Bastila nods. “I tried to respond, but I realized you weren’t receiving, so… I listened.” She smiles a little, the barest trace, says, “It’s good to know I’m not the only one who feels lost sometimes.”

Revan sets the submersible to autopilot when they make it back, curls up in the seat and adjusts to a semi-comfortable position.

And Bastila doesn’t hesitate in dropping her head to lean on Revan’s shoulder and drifting off to sleep moments later.

* * *

Kashyyyk makes Revan want to scream.

She’s never liked Czerka; they’re greedy bullies, and remind her too much of many of Malak’s Sith except after a different kind of power. Revan has no qualms bringing her will _heavily_ to bear on them, releasing every enslaved Wookiee she comes across and practically daring someone to stop her. By the time she’s reached the Wookiee village, word’s gotten around, and nobody from Czerka dares to get near her, all too afraid of her lightsaber and her sharp tongue.

Her anger only increases when she discovers it’s a Wookiee behind all of this to begin with.

“Certainly, I’ll go kill your mad Wookiee for you,” Revan agrees, almost managing to sound pleasant, and she almost hopes the Chieftain calls her out for the hatred in her eyes that she doesn’t bother to suppress. (She knows Bastila can feel it. Bastila has been reflecting that hatred back, most of her time here, and for once she hasn’t attempted to suffocate it.)

* * *

Jolee Bindo _knows._

Revan isn’t sure how, but he recognizes her instantly, and then he _winks,_ which makes her realize he somehow also knows she’s only pretending. Revan doesn’t understand how he picks up on it so quickly - she wracks her brain trying to see if she’s met him before, but she can’t come up with anything, and sure she has gaps in her memory, but she’s certain she’d remember him, as insufferable as he is.

She gets him alone for a moment, at one point, and before she can even open her mouth he shakes his head. “No, you don’t know me,” he says, absurdly cheerful given the circumstances. “And don’t worry, I won’t bring up your secret until you decide to tell everyone. Though why you’re still hiding it is beyond me.”

Revan shrugs. “It’s better for me if Malak thinks I’m dead, for now,” she says, wonders why she’s explaining herself to this old ex-Jedi, of all people. “And I don’t want to scare Bastila away.”

She’ll have to tell Bastila soon, she knows. If only because there’s no real way to push the Jedi closer to the Dark otherwise. But for now…

“Oh, Bastila, is it?” Jolee knows far too much already, and Revan is fairly certain there’s no way she’ll be able to manipulate him; maybe he’ll be willing to join her cause, when she takes back the Star Forge. More likely she’ll have to kill him. (She regrets that, a little - she thinks she’ll like the old man. But needs must.)

And right now, Revan needs him. So she plays along, answers his questions, lets him guide her and Bastila through the Shadowlands; listens when he asks her not to kill the old Chieftain. As though she would’ve. She wants Czerka gone from Kashyyyk as badly as the Wookiees do, and by being the instrument of their rescue they’ll be all the more likely to pledge loyalty to her when she returns. So she seeks out the teranterek, pulls the ancient blade from its hide, brings it back to Freyyr, and then leaves the former Chieftain to nurse his wounds and recover as she heads to the star map, answers the questions the way she knows the Rakata terminal wants. She and Malak had stumbled on this, a little, the first time they’d sought out the maps, but Revan had learned, in time.

Star map successfully in hand, Revan deals with Bandon, a couple Sith lackeys, and some angry Wookiees back at the basket to the village; how in the nine hells Bandon got down _here_ she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t try and ask. The only real silver lining is that somehow Malak’s apprentice doesn’t seem to recognize her, still, although during the fight she ends up forced to pull out both her sabers. (She notices Bastila eyeing the red one with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, but the Jedi doesn’t say anything, at least, not yet.)

Well. At least Malak’s finally realized his cut-rate thugs weren’t going to do anything other than irritate her.

After they’ve driven off Czerka’s ships and slavers, the Wookiees rejoicing (although not all of them are certain about it), Revan finds herself alone on the paths, leaning on the railing and looking out over the massive forest. She doesn’t mind the solitude; Canderous is trying to drink a Wookiee he’d taken a liking to under the table, and Bastila is-

Footsteps scuff behind her, deliberately.

Ah. Bastila is behind her.

“May I speak to you about something?”

“You don’t need permission to talk to me, Bastila,” Revan says, trying to be flippant, but ending up more gentle than anything else - it’s easy to forget the discrepancies in their age and experience, sometimes, but then there’s times like this, when Bastila asks for Revan’s permission despite supposedly being in _charge,_ and Revan’s reminded the girl is young and has very little of the confidence Revan and Malak both had at her age. Bastila comes up beside her, leans on the railing as well, looking out like Revan had a moment ago; Revan studies her profile and finds herself thinking (not for the first time) that Bastila really is _beautiful._ Revan lets herself take the time to just look, inexplicably interested in the way the soft moonlight highlights Bastila’s hair and leaves her face half in shadow. Revan’s never particularly cared about people like this - Malak had always been the one pointing out people to her, and while she’d been able to agree that yes, that’s certainly an attractive person, she’d never felt the kind of _connection_ to anyone that Malak had had. He’d teased her about it, of course, but she thinks that with how terrible his own luck had been he should’ve left well enough alone. (Revan has never needed anyone else in her life other than her closest friend.)

A moment or two passes, then Bastila says, “You’re not being subtle, you do realize that, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Revan says, equally quiet, but letting herself smile a little. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“I didn’t _say_ I wanted to talk, it’s likely you picked up on that through our bond.” Bastila’s sudden, brief return to her customary haughty tone just makes Revan’s smile widen; she’s noticed the Jedi tends to fall back on it whenever she feels flustered. “But- yes. I do.”

“Well, I’m listening.”

Bastila talks for a long time, about emotions, about her struggles with those emotions; it’s the first time Revan’s really heard her _admitting_ to her feelings, and Revan responds when she can, though for the most part Bastila hardly seems to register what she says. Revan can’t quite help using the conversation to nudge her further into questioning her beliefs - Bastila’s vulnerable right now, and she _needs_ to start looking at the Jedi teachings from the outside, to see that the Council have done nothing but control her and suffocate her since she was a child. The younger Jedi talks about how she feels she herself is struggling with the path of the light, that she’s been a dark influence on Revan, that she doesn’t think she’s able to control herself well enough for this mission.

That she thinks Revan should’ve stayed with the Jedi Council.

And then Bastila swallows, and turns to look directly at Revan for the first time that night, and whispers, “I think… I think I may have made a very big mistake.”

* * *

Bastila kisses her first (Revan will remember this, later). She kisses Revan like she’s suffocating and this is her only chance for air, like Revan is the only water in the Tatooine desert, like she’s terrified this will all be torn away in a moment. And Revan could tell her this will all go badly; Bastila is too terrified of her emotions, still, even as she succumbs to them like she’s caught in a hurricane. After this is over, she will have learned nothing except that giving into her emotions completely scares her, and she will be afraid that somehow she’s lost her identity as a Jedi because she dares be in love.

But Revan can’t bring herself to pull back, to ease into this, because she too has wanted this for a long time, now, even if she’s only recently begun to admit it, and she’s only human. 

How can she resist when Bastila offers up everything she’s wanted on a silver platter?

After it’s over, after Revan falls asleep to Bastila curled up in her arms in Revan’s small bunk on the _Hawk,_ after she wakes up to the Jedi conspicuously absent, Bastila hides.

She won’t go into the same room that Revan’s in, and it’s nearly impossible to draw her into a conversation, though she knows Carth tries, and Revan finds herself wishing that Bastila would’ve picked a better time for all this. They’ll be cooped up in the _Hawk_ together now until they reach Korriban, which will take the better part of a week, and the already-small ship seems a lot smaller like this.

(It’s a lot colder, too, without Bastila’s smile.)

Revan refuses to admit that she _misses_ Bastila; that would be slightly ridiculous, and it’s not like the Jedi has even gone anywhere, but there’s something rather melancholy-feeling haunting her all the same.

* * *

(Jolee Bindo has been somewhat out of touch for the last couple decades, he knows, but he’s been living inside a tree, not under a rock, so he knows exactly who he’s looking at when Revan finds her way to his hut. He’s still got contacts in the Jedi Order who keep him apprised on things like the Mandalorian Wars, and what they’ve been calling the Jedi Civil War, and so when the Council had first sent Bastila and Revan off on their galactic scavenger hunt, Jolee had gotten a comm, letting him know that the former Dark Lord of the Sith and now mind-wiped Jedi padawan would be visiting Kashyyyk at some point in the future, and he should help her.

Jolee has been around for a long time, though. He’s seen a lot of people, and he’s seen his fair share of Dark Lords, _and_ amnesiacs too.

Revan - that’s her name, whatever she introduces herself as - is no amnesiac, and is _definitely_ a Dark Lord.

Jolee is reminded of the story of the snake and the boy, and not in a good way. (Though really, _is_ there a good way to be reminded of that story?)

He can tell Revan realizes he knows by the way she looks at him, all cold, calculated intent, like she’s deciding whether or not she needs to kill him to keep herself safe, and so the moment she manages to catch him on his own he tells her he’ll keep her secret. She needs him and she knows it, and so she doesn’t push, but Jolee can see the way she _watches_ him as they trek through the Shadowlands after her star map. Comparing her to a snake is more apt than he likes. She’s clever, and she’s deadly, and from the way her other companions watch her (including the famed Bastila Shan, who stares at Revan with her heart in her eyes) as she argues and then fights to free Kashyyyk from the Czerka slavers, none of them see it.

They don’t see how much damage she can do to the galaxy with just a word.

Jolee sees it, because Revan isn’t the first Dark Lord the galaxy’s seen recently.

He’s been out hiding here for a long time. Too long, probably, his bones ache in the mornings now and he swears he’s half-deaf from all the tach screeching. But as much as he’s hidden from the galaxy, he’s still a part of it, it’s still his home.

So he’ll follow this snake, in the hopes that maybe he can lead her away, so that when she finally strikes, maybe he’ll be the only one to suffer.)

* * *

The _Hawk_ drops out of hyperspace automatically, the navicomputer blaring a proximity alarm through the whole ship: something’s in their path, something that would vaporize them if they hit it while in hyperspace.

A moment later, as Revan’s still jamming her feet into her boots, there’s another alarm, and Carth shouts, from the cockpit, “It’s the _Leviathan!”_

The _Leviathan._ Malak’s flagship.

A pit of dread opens in Revan’s stomach.

“They’ve got us in a tractor beam!”

It’s too soon. Too soon. If Malak isn’t there - he’s not always, Saul Karath is in command of the fleet nowadays - then they’ll have a chance, but Saul _knows_ her.

The moment he sees her the game will be up, because she won’t pretend to him.

And Carth is going to freak out, more than likely, because she hasn’t had the time to twist his loyalty as much as she’d like, she’s been too distracted by training Juhani and by Bastila in general - and that’s not even considering how Bastila will react to Revan having known this entire time.

But this has always been a risk, that she’d be forced to show her hand before she’s ready. There’s no use worrying about it now.

“We’ll have to stage a rescue,” Bastila says as they gather in the main room, and Revan forces herself to breathe.

She has a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Saul Karath has questions. 

He locks Revan, Carth, and Bastila up in torture cages, stripped of everything they own, and Revan’s sure she can see him smirk as he takes her sabers off her belt and inspects them. He even ignites one, and chuckles at the violet color before deactivating it and setting it aside, though leaving them near enough to taunt her. Revan grits her teeth and clenches her hands into fists, not bothering to try and hide her dark anger.

There’s torture, of course, for all three of them, though Revan loses a bit of time during that; it’s _painful_ and so she lets her mind detach from her body, contemplating escape routes, wondering how long it’ll take HK to make it to her to free her, wondering if Karath will ever get his act together and actually ask them the questions. She’s not going to answer him, the man’s delusional if he thinks torture will break her; the pain just makes her stronger. He should know that by now. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Saul Karath orders the torture fields deactivated, strides forward so he’s standing in front of Revan’s cage, smiling like a predator. He has _no idea._ Revan grinds her teeth harder, wishes she could spit in his face, or better yet, choke him to death right now. (She could. But it’s too much of a risk, they have a plan, she just has to stick to it.)

“It’s time to put your loyalties to the test,” Karath says, and something about his smile leaves Revan off-kilter, suddenly uneasy. “I doubt torturing you will gain me your true cooperation. Your will is too strong to be broken that way. However.” There’s a sinking feeling in Revan’s stomach that feels too much like unfamiliar _fear._ “Even the strongest of heroes has trouble watching those they care about suffering.”

A pause.

“The interrogation will begin now. Each time you refuse to answer or give me a false answer, Bastila will suffer.”

He thinks he’s _clever,_ Revan realizes, as the man laughs. He’s enjoying this. He thinks that threatening Bastila, that _hurting_ Bastila, will gain Revan’s cooperation, as though she’s some weak-willed apprentice, as though she would break.

“My pain is meaningless,” Bastila says. “Tell him nothing!” And her words are brave, but through their bond Revan can feel her terror.

How could this all have gone wrong so quickly? Malak will _pay._

“I want answers! On what planet was the Jedi Academy at which you trained?”

Revan bares her teeth, snaps, “Do I look like a Jedi to you?” She has to maintain control over her anger, losing it now won’t help anyone - control has never been _difficult_ for her before. It should be easy.

Carth makes a confused noise next to her - he doesn’t understand yet. He will, though. Bastila, on the other hand.

Bastila swears under her breath, the first time Revan’s ever heard her properly do so, and there’s something like _realization_ across their bond. Revan stops hiding, lets gold bleed into her eyes, lets the entirety of her presence pour across the bond, and she lifts her chin and _glares_ into Karath’s eyes.

But he’s still smiling. He doesn’t _understand._

How can he smile?

“Interesting,” Karath muses, crosses back over to the console near him. “Very well. This is the price of your resistance.”

And Bastila _screams._

Her pain and terror stream across the bond like water through a broken dam, and Revan’s gaze snaps over to her immediately - the Jedi is writhing, tears pouring from her eyes, wails fading into whimpers as the electricity ends and she collapses to her knees, huddling in on herself, trembling. Her hands are grasping at her arms, hugging herself tightly, and she’s never before looked so small.

Revan’s vision goes white with pure, seething _hatred._

Karath laughs, like he truly thinks he’s accomplishing something, like he doesn’t understand what he’s just unleashed. Like he has no idea that there is a _damned good reason_ why Revan has mastered her self-control. "Enough. See what happens when you defy me?”

Revan’s voice is ice-cold and steady. “You just made a _very big mistake.”_

The Force rushes to her call, the way it always has, and Revan straightens in her cell, revels in the power of it, ink-black and rippling, like the Manaan oceans, all that power at her call. Faintly, in the back of her mind, she can feel Bastila, her presence no more than a whisper: _no, Revan, don’t!_

But it’s far, far too late for that.

“Did you think,” Revan snaps, hand closing into a fist as the Force _twists_ around Karath, lifting him into the air, wrapping around his neck, until his hands go desperately to his throat as he struggles to breathe, “that you could torture someone the Dark Lord of the Sith holds dear and _laugh about it?”_

The room is very silent, for a moment, after her declaration. “Revan…” Karath chokes out, a hoarse whisper, eyes wide and terrified now. Now he sees. Now he knows.

“You should’ve known better,” Revan hisses, and flicks her wrist slightly, sending the admiral crashing into a wall, slumping to the ground. “I don’t take well to someone torturing the people I love.”

Karath stumbles to his feet and Revan slams him into the wall again, causing him to make a muffled noise of pain. “We were told you’d been brainwashed!” he says, desperately. “That you were a Jedi puppet! My lord, please, don’t hurt me, I served you well before-”

“Your _service_ is of no use to me, since you forgot me as soon as Malak betrayed me.” Revan tosses Karath into the wall again, and this time he lays there, bleeding from his nose but making no move to stem the flow. Revan’s hands are shaking, her whole _body_ is, to the point it’s almost impossible to breathe and there are spots dancing through her vision; she forces herself to suck in a breath. Her jaw is clenched so tight it _aches._

“My lord Revan-”

 _“Enough.”_ Revan flicks a finger and Karath’s head slams back into the wall with enough force he goes limp, slumping to the durasteel floor where he’s been cowering. The sudden lack of an outlet for the anger pulsing through her veins leaves her trembling and nearly lightheaded, and she snarls, suddenly, slams a fist into the electrical field around her. _“Damn_ it!”

The field burns her hand, but she barely even notices, finds herself driving her hand against it again, and a third time, putting the Force behind the blows, as though she could shatter the field, force (and Force) her way out of this, as though any of that would take back the sound of Bastila’s agony ringing through her mind endlessly. Carth says something, but she can’t hear the words over the rage pounding through her head.

 _“Revan!_ Stop it, you’re hurting yourself.”

It’s Bastila.

Her voice is weak, hoarse, but it pierces through the fog in Revan’s mind, and she whirls, anger nearly forgotten in a rush of desperation to make sure the Jedi is alright. (She’s too close to losing control of herself, she has to pull her emotions back; how many times has she taunted Malak for not _thinking,_ for letting emotion guide him, for being recklessly destructive. And yet. And yet.)

Bastila is slumped, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth - she must’ve bit her lip or her tongue during the torture - and pale, muscles still trembling, and through the bond Revan can feel she’s still in pain, but she’s looking up with clear eyes, concerned and a little bit afraid. “Are you alright?” she asks, carefully, and the question is so _ludicrous_ Revan finds herself laughing, a little hysterically.

“You’re taking this really well,” she manages, struggling to get herself under control. “I mean, I just revealed that I’m the fully-realized Dark Lord of the Sith and nearly killed a man without touching him and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” Carth mutters from behind her, but Revan ignores him; she’ll have to deal with him later, when she can properly breathe again, but not yet, not now.

Bastila sighs, shifting and wincing. “I admit, I’m rather… disconcerted by that, yes. But-” She stops, looks away. “Against my better judgement, I’m worried for you.”

Revan closes her eyes, struggles to breathe, tries to tamp her anger down to a more manageable amount, where she can still draw on it for power without it overwhelming her. She hadn’t expected _this_ strong of a reaction-

_I don’t take well to someone torturing the people I love._

At some point, Revan isn't sure when, Bastila has gone from _apprentice_ to _beloved,_ and somehow Revan hadn't even seen it until now.

And Karath knows, now, that this is her weakness: Bastila Shan, the last hope of the Jedi. That Revan will reveal herself, will lash out, for her.

(Maybe Revan’s the one who made a mistake.)

“Are we going to talk about this?” Carth asks, after Revan’s been silent for another minute or so, and she tenses despite herself, forces her eyes to stay closed and takes another shaky breath.

“Not now, Carth,” she says, as calmly as she can. Once they’re out of these cells. Once she can reassure herself Bastila is alright. Once she feels like she’s no longer about to lose control at the slightest provocation.

That may be easier said than done.

The room is quiet for several more minutes, until Revan hears a click, the door hisses open, and the humming of the cell fields vanishes; she opens her eyes and sees HK, proud and self-satisfied.

“Find the others, get them out, and get back to the _Hawk,”_ Revan orders him, rushing from her cell to kneel down by Bastila, who’s simply slumped against the metal back of the cage now that the electrical field is down, eyes closed. “I need you to have the ship ready to go as soon as the hangar doors are opened.”

“Affirmative,” HK says, clanking away, and Revan gently presses a hand to Bastila’s cheek, then stands, too-fluid. Their equipment is kept on the other side of the hall, if Karath followed protocol; she ignores Carth protesting and asking where she’s going and opens the far door, finding most of her gear in a pile on a bench and stashed in lockers. She gets dressed as quickly as she can, hooks her sabers to her belt, grabs Bastila’s clothes and a medpack and returns to the detention room.

Carth has crouched down by Bastila himself, eyes shadowed, and when Revan approaches he shifts to defend her, as though Revan’s somehow going to kill her on the spot. “Move,” she says, voice low but firm, and goes to duck past him.

Carth doesn’t let her pass, so she grabs onto the Force and shoves him out of the way, drops down onto the floor by Bastila and ignores the soldier’s protesting. She doesn’t have the patience for this.

There’s a kolto spray in the medpack and she applies it carefully to the worst of the electrical burns on Bastila’s body, then injects a pair of hypos - one a painkiller, another a stimulant. “I’m going to need your help,” she says, as gently as she can manage. “Will you be all right?”

Bastila grits her teeth, then nods, opening her eyes. “We need to talk about this later,” she says, and Revan sighs, nods. “I have questions, I need to understand.”

“I know,” she says. She itches to pull Bastila into her arms, to tuck the younger Jedi close until she stops shaking, until she can breathe again. But the Force is insistent - they have no time - and Revan knows better than to be too affectionate, not now, not when she's just revealed herself, not after Bastila's been avoiding her. They'll have time later. “I’ll answer them, but we don’t have time right now. Malak is coming.”

Revan can feel him, a darkness coming ever-closer, and he’s not alone. She wasn’t ready for this confrontation, and she’s still not, but if she can take control of the bridge, if the crew remembers where their true allegiance lies, then she has a chance. Malak is strong but not very smart, and he’s unprepared for her to be fully aware of herself and her power, and she’s always been his superior, from the very beginning.

So she helps Bastila to her feet, and both she and Carth get dressed and gear up in silence, and they leave Saul Karath unconscious on the floor.

(Revan’s second mistake: she forgot all about him the moment Bastila needed her.)

It’s not an _easy_ fight to the bridge, per se, but Revan leads them around corners without stopping, gauges the patrols so they have as little to fight as possible. She ignores the bridge doors she knows are locked, leads them to the maintenance airlock instead, pulls on the space suit waiting there and directs Carth and Bastila to do the same. There’s a walkway along the outer hull of the ship that leads to another entrance to the bridge, and as they walk Revan looks off to one side, sees another hulking flagship slam into realspace near their position.

Malak.

And he’s brought no small amount of his underlings with him, Revan realizes… more than she’d expect him to bring, and stronger. But they have time, if barely enough, to get the hangar doors unlocked, and to _run._

The bridge is nearly empty but for a skeleton crew. Revan strides out into the middle of them as she would’ve were this any other day before the betrayal and she waits for their recognition. No one speaks, but she can see them staring at her, hands going still on the controls.

“Well?” Revan asks. “You know who I am. Malak is coming, so I expect you to make your choice quickly.”

“That will not be necessary.”

She turns to the opening bridge doors, hands going to her sabers automatically as Saul limps onto the bridge; he’s in terrible condition but he’s alive, and she _really_ should’ve made sure he stayed unconscious longer when they left the detention level. Or just killed him. Carth’s been wanting revenge, hasn’t he?

“Saul Karath,” she sneers. “Back again so soon?”

“Later than I would’ve been if I hadn’t taken the time to tell Malak all about our little encounter.” He looks smug and proud again, none of the fear remaining in his eyes. He thinks so highly of himself he doesn’t expect Malak to kill him for his failure, or on a whim. No one is above Malak’s whims, he should know that by now. No matter how indispensable he makes himself. “Now he knows all about your _weakness,_ Lord Revan, and how to exploit it.”

Revan grits her teeth, straightens her spine. “What are you waiting for, Carth, permission? Shoot the man already.”

Carth shoots her a _look,_ like he’s reminding her he no longer trusts her and so isn’t taking her orders, but then he pulls out his blaster and fires off a few quick shots and Karath falls.

“Thank you,” Revan says, grimaces - there goes her chances of taking over the _Leviathan_ before Malak arrives. She really should’ve just killed Karath and been done with it sooner. Either way, there’s nothing she can do about her mistake now, so she hurries over to a console, slices in and unlocks the hangar doors, deactivates the tractor beam and locks it behind a personal code even Malak hadn’t known. “We need to _go,_ he’ll be here any minute.”

“Revan,” Bastila says quietly, catching her attention, “I sense more than just Malak on board.”

“I know,” Revan says, frustrated, shaking her head a little. “I miscalculated by leaving Saul alive. If we get back to the ship quickly we can avoid fighting him here.” She rushes them through the bridge doors as she speaks, sends a casual bolt of lightning sparking from her fingertips to the Sith soldier rounding the corner; they’re dead before they hit the ground.

There’s just too many to fight, and Bastila is injured.

Revan does what she can, uses the Force to the fullest, pours all her lingering fury into her sabers as she attacks, but they’re just _too slow,_ Carth is spending more time supporting Bastila than shooting, and Revan is the best either of them have ever seen but she can’t do everything alone. She’s breathing hard and sweat is stinging her eyes by the time they make it to hangar control a few decks down, but the _Ebon Hawk_ is free, she can see it and the open docking bay doors out the viewscreen to her right. The guards in the docking bay itself are gone, the engines are running - they’re so close to being free.

Of course, that’s when the blast doors at the far end of the large room open and Malak himself strolls through, casually, lightsaber still on his belt. He would be smiling if he still had his jaw, she can tell by the amusement radiating off him into the Force and his laughter.

“After all this time, I thought I would have to hunt you down to finish my revenge! Imagine my surprise when I heard you’d come right to me!” Malak laughs again, knocking both Carth and Bastila to the ground when Carth raises his blaster. Revan ignores both of them, for the moment, ignites both her sabers, sliding into an offensive stance. “A small part of me has always regretted betraying you from afar. I always knew there were some who would think I acted out of fear, that I did not want to face you. But now fate has given me a second chance to prove myself. Once I defeat you in combat no one will question my claim to the Sith throne - my triumph will be complete!”

Revan curls her lip in a sneer, says, “You’ve never been able to kill me, Malak, and you know it. How many times have you tried? You failed, every time, and you’ll fail again here.” She takes a step towards him, and he ignites his own red lightsaber - and then _laughs._

“And that’s why I’m not facing you in single combat! There is no law saying apprentice and master must duel with no outside interference, and I now know your true weakness!”

And then the blast doors _behind_ them hiss open as well, and Revan turns halfway to see a group of Sith - ten of them - enter the room, lightsabers out, and these are far, far more than the thugs Malak’s been sending after her.

“Yes, Revan, you see it now. These are my elite guard! Even you cannot defeat all of us together - and then I will force you to watch as I finally break you!” Malak laughs again, nearly maniacal, and then lifts both his hands into the air and freezes both Bastila and Carth into stasis. 

Oh, no. Oh, _Force._

Revan feels ice-cold fear trickle down her spine, like the rains on Manaan, shifts her sabers to defensive and looks around the room as Malak’s Sith spread out in a circle around the room. Eleven red blades light up the area around her, and Revan looks to Carth, then to Bastila, still unable to move. Bastila pushes something like strength across their bond, and confidence, and even though Revan knows it’s weak at best she clings to it anyway.

The Sith don’t attack at first.

She fights Malak one-on-one, dancing out of his reach, blocking his strikes, attacking blindingly fast, draining life from him to heal herself a little at a time, fighting with the Force as much as with her blades; she knows this is the first time Carth or Bastila would’ve seen anyone like her _truly_ fight, and she hopes, a little hysterically, that they enjoy the show, because who knows if she’s going to survive this to fight again.

Malak’s saberwork is elementary at best - the raw _strength_ behind his blows is what’s always made him a formidable opponent - and that hasn’t changed any since the last time she’d seen him. Even exhausted as she is, in pain as she is (because it might’ve been mild compared to what he’d done to Bastila, but Karath _had_ tortured her, too, though she’d nearly forgotten it in the wake of everything after), she would still have no problem beating Malak one-on-one. It would be _easy_ \- if it weren’t for the other Sith shooting lightning at her every time she dodges a blow instead of blocking it, sapping her strength, slowing her. They keep closing the circle around her, tighter and tighter, a distraction and a fence, and Revan makes the mistake of looking away from Malak for half a second to judge the space she has left.

She’s brought back to sharp awareness of him by his saber burning a stripe down her upper thigh, from hip to knee, nearly, what would’ve been a gutting blow if she hadn’t managed to knock it aside at the last moment. Malak laughs again and she retaliates by scoring a line across his chest and cutting a furrow into his metal mask. She could still win, she _could,_ but then she flips out of the way of a strike (too acrobatic, she should know better) and her leg gives out under her as she lands, and she can’t bite back a cry of pain.

Revan has never lost to Malak before, not in close combat, and this is hardly _fair,_ but she can’t lose. She _can’t._

“That’s enough,” Malak says, as she starts to rise, and abruptly there’s multiple lines of lightning burning into her skin, and she can’t move, can’t _breathe,_ the pain so much more than she’s felt in so long, and she’s better than this, she should be better than this, but she curls up to protect herself anyway, still holding tight to her sabers because she _cannot_ let them go-

The pain fades and before she can take advantage and throw herself to her feet, she’s being held by several of Malak’s Sith, dragged to her feet, and she throws herself forward only to be savagely jerked back by the Force. Revan spits curses, struggles, and gets backhanded across the face by a lightsaber hilt for her trouble, and then Malak walks over to where Bastila is laying on the ground and for a moment the universe _stops._

“No,” Revan says, too quickly, and Malak laughs and laughs, grabs Bastila around the upper arm with one hand and jerks her to her feet.

“I’ve wanted her power since I first learned of it: the only Jedi who could make the Republic Navy stand against my fleet! How convenient that Saul Karath told me this girl is your weakness, that you lost all sense of rationality when he tortured her. I can sense the bond between you, Revan. Can you feel her pain? Is that what finally drove you over the edge?” Malak walks backwards, dragging Bastila with him - she’s struggling but none of them have had a chance to recover and she’d gotten the worst of it. Malak’s laughter feels like it’s worming through her ears, filling her mind, and he _has Bastila,_ and it’s been so long since protecting Bastila was about protecting her potential apprentice, or angering Malak, she just wants Bastila safe. _Needs_ her safe. “I never thought I’d see the day where you lost control of yourself, Revan. I wish I could’ve seen it for myself. But I’m afraid I won’t get that chance. I have a Jedi to break, after all, and you have maps to find… if you live.”

“No!” Revan shouts, struggles to free herself again, uselessly, and then Malak laughs one more time and backs through the blast door as it seals itself shut. _“Bastila!”_

She _will_ kill Malak for this. 

He’s taken her. He’s _taken Bastila._

A wave of fury (and fear, she can admit that) rises choking and hot in her chest, sweeps through her body, and Revan _screams,_ wordlessly, the sound full of every ounce of _pain_ and desperate fear and _hatred_ seething through her, the Force practically glowing red around her for a heartbeat, and then the Sith surrounding her are _slammed_ into the walls of the room on all sides so hard the transparisteel cracks and she hears bones snap.

Revan pays no mind to them, grabs onto her bond with Bastila and summons her sabers to her hands, igniting them as she goes, runs to the blast door and drives the blades into it, melting through the thick metal as quickly as she can. Bastila’s presence is already fading as the distance between them grows, her mind full of fear, and Revan _will get her back._

If Malak wants to see her lose control so badly, she’ll _damn_ well oblige him.

“Revan. Revan!” It’s Carth, trying desperately to get her attention, from near the shattered viewscreen overlooking the hangar. “Revan, we have to go.”

“He has Bastila,” Revan snaps back, voice so hoarse and strangled she barely recognizes herself. “I’m not leaving without her.”

“We _have_ to. Listen, I _know_ what you’re feeling, but if you chase after Bastila now you’ll get everyone else killed!” Revan turns away from him - like she _cares_ about that right now - but Carth isn’t done. “Revan, the only way we can save her is getting the Star Forge. That’s what you’ve been trying to do, isn’t it? Take it back? If you go after Bastila now you’ll get yourself killed and no one will be able to rescue her, but if we _leave now_ we can get you to the last star map.”

“I-” Revan stops, chokes on a breath, finds herself suddenly shaking, _hard,_ like she’s going to fly apart at the seams, and there’s something cold and wet on her cheeks. She turns to look at Carth, manages, “You aren’t going to stop me?”

Carth looks- not happy, but he shakes his head. “I want Bastila back as much as you do,” he says heavily, “and for now, that’s enough.” He pauses, then adds, “Besides, you can barely stand. You can’t fight him now.”

Revan starts to snap, but as she pulls away from the blast door, deactivating her sabers, she discovers he’s right: her legs are shaking and nearly give out on her, and she has to steady herself against the wall. The Force is draining away from her now that she’s not entirely focused on her rage and her fear, and she feels like she’s been left outside strapped to the walls of Ahto City during a hurricane; her body screams in pain in multiple places, her head _throbs_ dully from overuse of the Force (which she hasn’t done in _years),_ and everything feels raw and burning.

She sucks in a shaky breath, blinks away the wetness in her eyes and crosses the room to the viewscreen - one slash from her saber shatters it and she climbs up onto the edge, looks down for a moment, and then steps off, hits hard and manages to turn her momentum into a roll, ends up dazed on the ground.

For a moment, Revan can’t quite move.

Then Carth appears next to her, hand outstretched - even though he’s learned she’s his enemy, even though she’s been lying to him for months, even though she would sacrifice him to save Bastila and he _has_ to know that - and Revan takes an aching breath and reaches up and takes his hand, turns all the pain in her into a promise that she pushes at her limited awareness of Bastila:

 _I_ **_will_ ** _rescue you._


	3. i stretched my arms into the sky [act iii]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I cry Babel, Babel, look at me now_

Revan ends up half-collapsed on the couch in the main living area of the _Hawk,_ staring at the mug of caf Jolee had thoughtfully brought her, forcing herself to take slow, steady sips and to stop trying to reach her bond with Bastila - her mind needs to recover from too much use of the Force too fast, and constantly probing the fading bond won’t let that happen. Still, it’s difficult to leave it be; Revan _knows_ what Malak will be doing to Bastila, because he learned it from her.

Pain, and truth.

Once the _Hawk_ is safely away into hyperspace, after Mission had jumped into the turret to man the gun against Malak’s fighters (usually Revan’s job, but they’d all seen the way Carth had had to practically carry her inside), Carth comes back out from the cockpit and they all gather around, still looking concerned, for now.

“They deserve to know,” Carth says, quietly firm. “And you promised me answers, Shala.”

She hardly wants to deal with Carth’s suspicions now, much less the rest of the crew, though half of them already know, so maybe it’ll be a bit simpler than she’s expecting. “You can stop using the fake name, then,” she says, notices how Juhani and Jolee both straighten up to frown at her, though neither of them say anything. Maybe they just don’t have the chance to.

“Interjection!” HK says, loudly. “Master, I have calculated a sixty-three percent chance that these meatbags will not take well to this revelation. If you had allowed me to assassinate them back when we were reunited, we would not be having this problem.”

Good old HK. “I didn’t let you assassinate them for a reason, HK,” Revan sighs, though she smiles a tiny bit, too. She’s exhausted and in pain, but at least she can always count on her assassin droid to make her feel better.

“Wait, what’s he mean?” Mission asks, frowning. “And what are you saying, _fake name?”_

Revan takes another sip of her caf, leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes. “Shala Dral was an alias the Jedi Council attempted to program into me to overwrite my mind,” she says tiredly. “My true name is Darth Revan. You may have heard of me.” A slight attempt at levity, to ease the atmosphere.

“You’re- you’re _Revan?”_ Mission sounds horrified. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“It’s no joke,” Carth says, and Revan opens her eyes to see he looks upset, angry even, but at least there’s none of the disgust she’d sensed on the _Leviathan._ “You weren’t there, you didn’t see what she did to Saul Karath and Malak.”

Revan shakes her head a little. “I should’ve killed Karath before we ever left the detention level. If he hadn’t shown up on the bridge I could’ve taken control of the _Leviathan,_ locked Malak out of his own command vessel.” And then Bastila would still be here, she doesn’t say. She doesn’t have to say it. “I should’ve known Malak would be too much of a coward to face me head on, but I thought- I didn’t expect him to be prepared for me, there’s a reason I went along with the Jedi’s little game for as long as I did.”

“This is-” Mission shakes her head a little. “Okay, this is really big, but…” She shakes her head again. “What _happened_ on that ship?”

Revan leans forward, sets her caf down and rubs at her eyes, grimacing. “I fought Malak, in a way, but he overwhelmed me with sheer numbers, and then took Bastila prisoner while I was fighting to escape.” There, a simple explanation that doesn’t touch on her loss of control, on how incredibly _unprepared_ she was, on how she still doesn’t completely understand her emotions. “I made mistakes, I underestimated my old apprentice. I won’t do that again.”

There’s a moment of quiet, then Carth says, “I don’t trust you, and I’m _furious_ that you kept this a secret, but I have to say… Revan, I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.”

Revan snorts, too tired to laugh, says, “Malak learned everything he knows from me, but he never listened to the important lessons, and he’s never had my skills. And he’s repeated mistakes I told him never to make again in the past.” She sits up straighter, even though she hardly has the energy, says, darkly, “I’m going to kill him for that.”

There’s another heavy beat of silence, her crew seeming to process everything, before Canderous, leaning against the wall, speaks up for the first time. “Revan, you know I’ll follow you anywhere. Whatever you’re hunting, whatever fight you’re in, it’ll be worthy of a Mandalorian. The question is, what _are_ you going to do now?”

Revan lifts her chin, meets everyone’s gaze. “I’m going to stop hiding,” she says, calmly. “I’m going to Korriban, to get the last star map and to retake the Academy. And then I’m going to take back the Star Forge, kill Malak, and rescue Bastila. This is _my_ empire, and I had a reason for building it, and I’m not letting Malak stop me.”

“I can’t let you betray the Republic,” Carth warns, and Revan pushes herself to her feet, carefully, the ship swaying around her for a moment before she gets her balance.

“You already promised you’d help me, Carth,” she says, soft but deadly, velvet wrapped steel. “Remember?”

Carth’s face twists, but he nods. “Don’t expect me to keep helping you once we rescue Bastila,” he says. “And you know, she won’t stay with you once she learns what your plan is.”

“I think you should leave that up to her, and don’t underestimate Malak’s skill at breaking Jedi. Remember, he learned everything he knows from me.” Revan walks through the room towards the crew quarters, still somehow the pulse point of the room even exhausted and worn as she is. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t been in this much pain in a long time, and I’d really like to treat my injuries and sleep until we reach Korriban.”

No one tries to stop her as she leaves.

Revan keeps up her confident facade all the way until she’s reached her bunk, and then she sinks down into it and sets the medpack she’d grabbed off to the side and buries her face in her hands, tries to keep herself from shaking. She’d planned things so carefully, to give her enough time to make sure her crew’s loyalty was sound, to reveal herself at the right moment, so that by the time Malak knew of her and knew her plans it’d be too late to stop them - and yet all it’d taken was a little less than a day to unravel everything completely. Now Bastila is _gone,_ she’s lost the protection of anonymity, Carth is back to spending every second suspecting Revan’s every move, and for the first time she can remember, Revan has lost her certainty.

Up until now she’s never doubted she would take her empire back, that she would kill her wayward apprentice and retake the Star Forge. Why would she? She’s _Darth Revan,_ she defeated Mandalore the Ultimate, she conquered half the galaxy, she’s the most powerful Force-user the galaxy has seen in centuries.

And she’s fallen into the trap every good leader must avoid: believing in her own legends.

“Hey, uh, Sh- Revan?”

Mission’s voice startles her out of her thoughts and Revan lifts her head, looks up and tries to reach for a smile, though she feels too exhausted to really succeed. “Hey, kid,” she says tiredly, scoots over to make room on the bunk, even though she really doesn’t feel like talking anymore right now. “I don’t know if I can answer your questions.”

Mission hesitates, then sits down, but to Revan’s surprise she just reaches for the discarded medpack and opens it to dig through it. “I know it’s weird, but that’s not actually why I came back here.” She laughs a little, the sound more a nervous gesture than anything else, and pulls out the kolto spray. “You said you were hurt?”

Revan sighs and carefully tugs off her Jedi tunic (and now that she’s done with this farce, she can finally get herself some proper clothes - there’s a tailor on Korriban who makes robes for the Sith, who’d made her her favored robes and breastplate before, she’ll have to get him to recreate them) and her gloves, revealing the spidering electrical burns from the mild torture and the lightning. “There’s also a lightsaber burn on my leg,” she says as she carefully leans over to pull off her boots, the action stretching burned skin painfully and making her grimace. “You don’t have to do this, Mission, I’ve patched myself up plenty of times.”

“I know,” Mission says. “But I thought… Carth said the only reason he let you back onto the _Hawk_ is because you were- he said _distraught_ when Malak took Bastila. He thinks that means there’s still good in you and you can be convinced to help the Republic instead.” She shakes her head a little. “I don’t know that he’s right about that, but I figure, if you really were that upset, maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Revan finds, abruptly, that it’s hard to swallow. “Thank you,” she says, thick but genuine, forces back the lump in her throat. “I didn’t plan for any of this,” and she sucks in a sharp breath as Mission starts applying the kolto in careful, practiced motions - it’s clear she’s had experience with treating injuries before. “Seeing Malak so soon, I mean. I wasn’t prepared.”

Mission hums a little, says, “Maybe if you’d confided in some of us, we would’ve been able to help you more. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Revan raises an eyebrow, despite herself. “You’re telling me that if I’d told you before now that I’m _the_ Sith Lord, and I intend to take over the Republic, you would’ve helped me?”

“Well, okay, maybe don’t frame it exactly like _that,”_ the Twi’lek says, “but if you’d told me the truth about you and Malak, I would’ve been better able to help on the _Leviathan._ All of us would’ve.”

“You may be right,” Revan admits after a moment, shaking her head. “I _lost control,_ Mission, I’ve been so careful to never do that. And all it took was feeling Bastila in pain, and losing her.”

Mission shrugs a little, but she’s quiet when she says, “Sometimes, when you love somebody, you do stupid things when they’re in trouble. Like me and Zaalbar, when I first met him, or the time I tried to save Griff from the Exchange all on my own. I guess that’s why the Jedi are so firm about not falling in love.”

The Jedi are wrong about that, Revan is convinced. But she can’t deny that it makes her feel a little better about the whole incident - which was probably Mission’s intention. 

“Revan?” Mission asks, when it’s clear Revan doesn’t have an answer, and she turns, glances over at the girl in acknowledgement. “Why did you do it?”

That is _not_ a question Revan expected anyone to ask, much less the teenager who until a few months ago had almost no idea what the galaxy at large is like. “Why did I turn on the Republic?” she asks, to confirm, and Mission nods, looking unsure, like she’s worried Revan will take offense to the question. “That’s complicated, kid.”

“I need to know if I’m going to stay with you.”

Well. As annoying as the teen can be sometimes, Revan truly does care about her, and so she sighs and rubs at her face, leans back against the wall. “To understand that, you need to know why I left the Jedi to begin with,” she explains, slowly.

“You left to fight in the Mandalorian Wars, everyone knows that,” Mission says, ready to disregard the whole idea completely, and Revan can’t help a bit of a smile.

“Well, yes. But more importantly, I left because I had the power - and therefore the responsibility, my old Jedi Master was very clear on teaching me that - to save people, and so many of the Jedi I’d grown up with agreed with me, understood that. We weren’t content to sit back and let the galaxy _burn_ on the word of the Council, who we all knew to be complacent anyway.” Things had been, in a way, much simpler back then, before the war and Vitiate tangled everything up. “And we saved people, Mission. We saved _so many_ people.”

“I don’t understand,” Mission says. “If you wanted to save people, why would you become a Sith? They destroyed my _home._ And that’s not the only planet they’ve done it to!”

“I know. I cut off Malak’s jaw when he did that to Telos and threatened to kill him if he did it again. It’s just pointless destruction, and all it does is sow hatred.” Revan sighs, frustrated again at the reminder of Malak’s complete inability to retain a _single_ lesson she taught him beyond brutality, adds, “I intend to kill him, and one of the reasons _will_ be what he’s done to Taris… and to Dantooine.”

Mission hadn’t known, she realizes. She’d thought Carth would’ve told them all of Malak’s bombardment after Revan left, but either the soldier had decided to wait, or maybe Mission had left the room before he’d explained.

“But you wanted to know why I chose the path I’m on.” A pause, to collect her thoughts. “You may not understand, but I turned on the Republic to save people. There’s something out in the Unknown Regions - some _one_ \- and the Jedi and the Republic are both too complacent to stop him.” She shakes her head. “The fact that the Jedi Council was willing to rewrite my mind is proof of how far they’ve fallen from their dogma.”

“But you’re going to kill people, you’ve _been_ killing people,” Mission protests, though she still sounds more curious than anything. “How can you save people by killing them?”

An interesting question indeed. “Haven’t I been saving them?” Revan asks. “On Tatooine, I made an alliance with the Sand People. On Kashyyyk I drove the slavers away. People won’t follow you if they don’t love you, Mission, and for me to protect the galaxy from Vitiate, they have to follow me. It’s the right thing.”

“Why couldn’t you have done this as a Jedi?”

“Jedi can’t make the kind of decisions I have to,” Revan says, and it’s true: she saves people, yes, but sometimes there’s people who can’t be saved, or who shouldn’t be saved, and the Jedi can’t make those calls, don’t even see them. “You have to trust me, Mission - I’m doing this to protect the galaxy.”

Mission frowns. “I don’t know if I agree with you, but I guess I can trust you for now. At least until we deal with Malak. After that, well, I don’t know.”

“Thank you,” Revan says, and she does mean it.

Mission is just the first step - if Revan can make her see, then it shouldn’t be too hard to convince Carth and the others. After all, isn’t the galaxy more important than the Jedi _or_ the Republic, in the long run?

* * *

(Revan sleeps, and she dreams.

She dreams of light streaming through grand halls, of art and literature and philosophy, of a dark-haired girl and a pale, tattooed boy giggling as they sprint through the halls. Coruscant is the center of the Jedi Order, where there’s no war and no pain, a testament to everything the Jedi have accomplished over thousands of years. Here there’s nothing to fear, nothing to hate; there’s just Revan and Alek, two halves of a whole, hand-in-hand and laughing.

There’s a loud crash from somewhere behind them as the target to their prank, Master Arren Kae, triggers the triplight they’d painstakingly set up - Alek had smuggled the parts for it out of maintenance after his last shift down there cleaning droids (punishment for their _last_ prank) and they’d spent hours huddled up together in one of the unused training rooms making sure it worked.

It’s a harmless prank - Revan had just wanted to spray her Master with water, in retaliation for being forced to help clean out the Temple fountains - but half the fun in pranking someone is running away without getting caught, even though they’ll both get caught later, and finding a good place to hide. So Revan runs as fast as she can, darts around a corner, laughter trailing behind her. There’s a grate covering a vent near the floor, and Revan reaches out and grabs Alek’s hand, tugs him to a stop by the grate. _Help me with this,_ she hisses, and obediently Alek comes over beside her, his free hand curling into a claw in the air as together they leverage the grating out with the Force. The vent is only a meter or so wide, but Revan’s small enough she can easily crawl through it, and so she does, beckons Alek in after her, and then helps him wedge the grate back into place.

_Come on, further back or she’ll notice us!_

And giggling softly, still, Revan takes Alek’s hand again, secure in the knowledge that she and her best friend have found the perfect place to hide - flat on their stomachs, sides pressing together, avoiding looking at each other so as not to risk breaking out into laughter again. Arren Kae’s sharp footsteps pass by the grate without pausing, without even slowing down, and Revan turns to Alek, grinning. _We made it, Alek._

 _Of course we did,_ Alek says, quiet but cheerful. _It’s you and me, nobody can stop us as long as we stay together. Not even the Council._

_Well, then we’ll have to stay together forever, so no one can ever tell us what to do. I’ll be the Grand Master and you can be my assistant!_

_Obviously. That’s what best friends are_ for, _Revan. Now budge up, you’re taking up more than half the vent._

Revan will forever deny waking up with tears on her cheeks.)

* * *

Korriban is as dry and ominous as Revan remembers, the same heavy, foreboding presence in the Force; Revan soaks it in, appreciating being away from Carth’s disapproval as much as anything else. He isn’t all that interested in seeing the Sith burial and training world, and so Revan gladly leaves him in the _Hawk_ to stew, instead taking Juhani and HK with her.

Dreshdae is full of hopefuls and apprentices, most of them all-too-similar to Malak’s thugs; she’d had a new training regime half-composed by the time of his betrayal, but never had a chance to implement it. The Sith _have_ to evolve from petty power plays if they’re going to fight Vitiate, and if they won’t do it willingly, Revan will force them to. Not _violently,_ but there are so many ways of forcing a change, and only half of them involve lightsabers.

She’s nearly insulted when the Sith guard at the door refuses her entry without a medallion. Even changed out of Jedi robes (Bastila had brought some spare clothes on board, and the two of them are close enough in size she’d made them work), without her robes people don’t recognize her, and when she tries to convince the man of who she is he laughs in her face. Revan is dead, he tells her, everyone knows that.

So it’d just been Malak’s upper echelon and the people who’d served her since the Mandalorian Wars who’d known she was alive. Interesting; Malak likely hadn’t wanted word spread around of his initial failure until he had a success to parade around.

“What are you going to do?” Juhani asks her as Revan takes the path back to Dreshdae. “I heard some of the apprentices mention a Yuthura Ban, we could ask her for a medallion.”

“I’m not getting a medallion,” Revan says, shakes her head. “No, I’m going to do what I was already planning to do, just sooner. We’ll have to stay in Dreshdae for a few days before we access the Academy.”

In all honesty, it would be quicker to get a medallion, but Revan was always planning to reveal herself to the galaxy here, on Korriban, and she can’t be bothered to go through with all the little trials the acolytes have to face. She knows the star map is in the tomb of Naga Sadow, and it’s highly unlikely Uthar (assuming he’s still in charge) will just let an acolyte in. And Revan has no need to prove herself twice.

So she goes to find the tailor who had made her robes previously, and prepares herself to wait.

(The longer she takes here, the longer Malak has with Bastila; but Revan has regained enough of her control back to remind herself that rushing into this won’t do her any good. And she _needs_ the Sith Order behind her when she goes to face Malak again - she won’t let him pull the same trick twice.)

It only takes a few days - the tailor is encouraged to work quickly - and then Revan dons her new robes, smoothes her hands over the breastplate and the blaster-resistant fabric before clipping her sabers to the belt and tugging up the hood. It feels good to be properly equipped again, and as she walks through Dreshdae, and down the path to the Sith Academy, she can feel conversations hush, people turning to stare at her as she passes, afraid of her in ways none of them had been the last time she was here, even though the acolytes and apprentices would’ve still been able to feel her power before she looked the part. She supposes that just highlights how much appearances matter.

This time, when she reaches the Academy gate, the guard on watch actually takes a step back from her; she rolls her eyes (so much fear, when she’s never been a slave to her whims like others, she has far too much control for that), gives them a curt order to open the door, pleased with herself when they don’t ask for a medallion this time or even attempt to argue, just open the doors and step out of her way.

Revan sweeps through into the dimly lit, rough-hewn stone hallway, boots rasping on the ground, Sith apprentices and acolytes scattering out of her way as she approaches the center room. It’s been some time since she’s been to Korriban, but, unfortunately, the Academy she and Malak had helped set up hasn’t changed since then. 

Neither has the man they left in charge, she sees as she approaches Uthar Wynn’s kneeling form. “Uthar,” she calls out, calmly, and the Sith Master turns, rising to his feet - he looks rather annoyed up until he catches sight of Revan’s outfit, at which point he does a double take before bowing deeply.

“My lord Revan,” he says, smoothly, “we were informed you had perished. I see that was untrue.”

“It was,” Revan agrees, crossing the room to stand in front of him, crosses her arms. “Malak betrayed me, but I survived his attempt on my life - I’ve just allowed the galaxy to think I was dead until the time was right.”

“And now it is time?” Uthar is looking her over speculatively, considering, and she appreciates the lack of fear she feels from him. It’s refreshing.

Revan smiles, just a little. “That depends entirely on if you, those under your command here, and your students remember where your loyalties should lie.” Uthar frowns, and Revan looks away from him for a moment, says, “HK, take Juhani to the library - Juhani, I want you to study everything you can about the Sith while we’re here, it’ll be a good learning experience for you. Uthar,” and she turns back to the Sith again, “I’ll give you and your underlings a day to decide. While you make your decision, I have something I need to retrieve from the tombs.”

“Of course, my lord,” Uthar says, though she can tell he dislikes having to address her so; he’s probably gotten used to having free reign over Korriban, and the idea that his Dark Lord is here is both something to be proud of and something to dislike. “I trust you remember the way?”

Revan doesn’t bother answering him, just walks down the northern hallway towards the far exit to the Academy. The Valley of the Dark Lords looks much the same as she remembers it, if better excavated, though the archeologists are still scattered around the valley in their camps. A couple of them look at her as she passes, and she nods acknowledgement, hikes to the far end of the Valley to look out over the massive statues that’ve been on Korriban for thousands of years, remarkably well preserved for their age. The first time she’d been here, she and Malak had stood in this very spot, overlooking the statues, and she remembers the awe they’d both felt, confronted with the legacy of the Sith Lords of old.

Revan had wanted to build something that would last thousands of years after her death too.

She shakes herself, after a moment, pulling herself out of the reverie (for a moment she can almost feel Malak’s presence beside her, reminding her of the days there wasn’t a challenge they hadn’t conquered together) and turning towards the tomb of Naga Sadow, where she remembers the star map is hidden behind a few sets of puzzles. It doesn’t take too terribly long for her to reach it, although she gives herself a minor electrical burn when she accidentally messes up the systems puzzle, but she’s able to correct herself before she causes any irreparable damage to the ancient computer terminal.

Sure enough, the star map is in the furthest chamber they’ve excavated, waiting for her, and Revan takes it, smiles to herself. Now all that’s left is to travel to the Star Forge, figure out exactly what it is and how to use it, and find her way to Bastila. Once she’s gotten Bastila free they can face Malak, kill him, and finally she’ll be back where she should’ve been this entire time: in command of a hundred fleets, in a position where she can conquer the galaxy and defend it from Vitiate’s Empire. 

Malak will regret the day he decided to betray her.

* * *

(Revan still hasn’t noticed.

Juhani can’t understand how it’s been months since she first started talking to Carth, and yet the woman who promised to teach her to protect herself, who promised that no one would ever use her again - who Juhani had thought actually _cared_ \- hasn’t figured out that her so-called apprentice has practically been avoiding her.

After the _Leviathan,_ Juhani had gone to Carth and confessed, tearfully, everything she’d been afraid to tell him before: that Revan had convinced her to turn against the Jedi, that she’d been following a dark path, that she’s been keeping Revan’s secret since almost the beginning. She’d expected anger, had been afraid he’d tell the others or even the Jedi of her shame, but instead he’d offered her a hug and a choice.

She’d taken both.

And she has a feeling that soon that choice will come into play; Revan is off getting the final star map now, and that’s the last obstacle in her nearly obsessive search for Bastila and Malak - Juhani isn’t even sure which of them she’s more desperate to find. Carth had told Juhani what he’d seen on the _Leviathan,_ when Bastila was being tortured and when Malak took her, and he’d called Revan _unstable,_ behind that tight, tight control she never ever releases.

A part of Juhani is starting to wonder if it might’ve been better for Revan if the Council’s mind wipe had succeeded.

“Report: I have found seven more suitable volumes for you to study,” HK says, walking up to her with arms full of holoprojectors, an actual book inscribed on flimsi, and even a holocron. How an _assassin droid_ even knows what would be suitable for a Sith apprentice Juhani doesn’t know, but she doesn’t ask, just thanks HK.

The Dantooine Enclave may be gone, the Masters dead (and Juhani cannot help blame herself, a little, wonder if somehow it could’ve been avoided if she’d told them at the beginning about Revan’s memory), but Juhani will continue to study the Sith and compile their knowledge anyway, so that whenever she finds an Archivist, she can pass on what she’s learned. And then maybe no one will make the kinds of choices she’s made again.)

* * *

Uthar is waiting for her when Revan returns to the Academy, several hours after she left it, star map securely tucked away in her belt pouch. “You’ve found what you seek?” he asks, and Revan nods assent. “Good. We’ve come to a decision.”

It hadn’t taken them long - she’s grateful for that. She’d hate to linger here any longer than necessary when she can finally hunt down Malak, take Bastila back. “Well?” she asks, letting a trace of her impatience color her words.

“We stand with you, Lord Revan,” he says, bowing his head. “Until you’ve had the chance to face Malak again, the Academy will only listen to your orders.”

“Good.” Revan starts for the library, gestures for Uthar to come with her. “I want you to send out a message to as many Sith as you can reach. Tell them to spread the word that Darth Revan is alive, and that I’m hunting down Malak for his treason. Anyone who is willing to swear allegiance to me will be treated well, but when I kill him, I will treat his allies like traitors.”

“Yes, Lord Revan,” Uthar says, and withdraws - good man, to know when he’s dismissed. Still, Revan will have to keep an eye on him once she deals with Malak, make sure he’s not just rewarding students for needless cruelty and brutality. She doesn’t want any more Sith of Malak’s ilk around - that isn’t how they’ll win against Vitiate. They need to be _better._

She asks Juhani some about what she’d studied as they return to the _Hawk,_ though she’s only half-listening to the answers. Will Malak hear of her declaration? She’s practically declared war on him, after all, and she knows he has Sith loyal to him all throughout the Star Forge. At least some of them will join her, but she’ll have to be careful not to exhaust herself fighting his minions before she ever gets to him. If she can find Bastila first, give her time to recover from whatever Malak put her through… that’ll help, and having Juhani at her back will be a good support as well. Malak won’t be able to face all three of them together - after the _Leviathan,_ she doesn’t intend to give him the benefit of a fair fight.

When they reach the _Hawk,_ the first thing she does is go to the table in the main room, spread the star maps out on it, and start decoding the coordinate fragments they contain; she’s done this before, even if she can’t remember the numbers, and so the process is nowhere near as laborious as it was the first time. Once she’s got the coordinates, she heads to the cockpit, programs them into the navicomputer, trying to ignore Carth leaning against the dashboard and watching her.

“Found what you were looking for?” he asks, and Revan nods.

“It’s going to be a long trip, but these are the coordinates for the Star Forge. Where Malak is, and where I’m sure he’s keeping Bastila as well. He knows I’m coming for him, and for her.”

The bond between Revan and Bastila is still stretched so thin it’s barely noticeable, but Revan brushes against it anyway, as has become her habit. It’s not likely that Bastila can feel anything other than Revan’s presence, muted as the bond is by distance, but Revan hopes that presence is a comfort, a reminder that Bastila isn’t completely alone, that Revan will come for her.

She will. Malak doesn’t get to take anything else from her.

* * *

(This is an important truth: that Revan has never been able to accept her own role in her defeats.)

* * *

It’s only after Carth barely manages to keep the _Hawk_ from breaking to pieces on Rakata Prime’s surface that Revan remembers the disruptor field, and the nullifier all Sith ships are equipped with so they aren’t caught in it. She supposes she’s mostly just lucky they hadn’t gotten shot down at all by the fighters that’d attacked them as soon as they dropped into realspace; Revan had been utterly preoccupied by the sudden live-wire flaring of her bond with Bastila, and she’d been operating the turret on autopilot and instinct, had taken far too long to deal with the measly six fighters. Canderous had called her out on it, in more of a joking tone than anything else, but for once Revan hadn’t returned his ribbing.

Bastila is here. She’s _close._

It’s all Revan can think about.

Carth talks about needing salvage to repair the stabilizers and the hyperdrive, and Revan suggests Mission take Zaalbar and T3 with her to go look for parts, while HK and Carth stay behind to guard the ship and Revan takes Juhani and Canderous with her to seek out the Rakatans whose help she’ll need to get into the temple. Carth agrees, eyes flicking to Juhani for just a minute, but Revan ignores that, shakes her head and starts off away from the beach.

Time passes by in a blur. Bastila is _here,_ on the same planet, waiting for her, and all Revan has to do is get into that temple.

She negotiates with the Elders, halfheartedly, agrees to kill the One for them, lies and lies and lies as she promises to destroy the Star Forge, promises she’ll go to the temple alone, if they’ll only do their ritual for her.

The Elders agree, just like they did before, and Revan tells Canderous and Juhani to go back to the _Hawk,_ let everyone know what’s happening.

She doesn’t tell them about Bastila.

The ritual lasts hours; Revan paces, thinks, even naps briefly, trying to save up her strength for the challenges within, trying to use the bond to understand what Bastila’s thinking and feeling, how her time with Malak has changed her. All she can feel is a sea of unchecked emotion and hatred and doubt, and it should scare her - a lot of those feelings are directed at her - but there’s also love, and Revan isn’t afraid of Bastila. Whatever lies Malak told her, Revan will undo, and then she’ll have Bastila back, wholly and completely, and Malak will never be able to stand against the two of them together.

She’s not really surprised when Juhani shows up, refusing to let Revan go into the temple alone - she’s probably sensed danger about the place, and she’s not wrong. Revan _is_ surprised by Jolee Bindo and Carth accompanying her, both of them equally determined, and, well, she’d never _really_ intended to keep her word to the Rakatans anyway, and it would take too long to dissuade them - she has to get to Bastila. So she shrugs and agrees, and into the temple they go.

It hasn’t changed from how she remembers it, though now it’s filled with Sith instead of droids. Most of them attack her, and Revan doesn’t hold back; she’d given her mandate. Those few who let her pass she lets live, as promised, and slowly she climbs to the top of the temple. There’s a landing pad up there, she knows, along with the terminal that shuts down the disruptor field, and probably the shuttle Bastila took down from the Star Forge. It’ll have a nullifier module on it, one Revan should be able to remove and hook up to the _Ebon Hawk,_ and then they can take _her_ ship to the Star Forge to face Malak. A shuttle won’t be big enough for her crew to all fit in, after all, and she’s not leaving anyone behind down here; she’s grown fond of them all, even Carth and Jolee, and she intends to bring them all with her when she takes back her empire. She’ll have to find rewards for them all - start funding to restore some of Telos for Carth, maybe the _Hawk_ for Mission, Mandalore’s mask for Canderous.

When they get to the temple summit, there’s a sleek black Sith shuttle on the landing pad, just as Revan suspected there would be, and leaning against it, dressed in black, is Bastila. Where Revan knew she’d be.

Revan finds herself smiling, unable to stop the rush of warmth and relief she feels at the sight: Bastila is safe, and here, and _hers,_ and that’s worth whatever price she might have to pay.

“Bastila!” Carth exclaims, surprised but strangely happy-sounding. “It’s so good to see you, when Malak took you I thought-”

He’s cut off by Bastila igniting her dualsaber, revealing the red blades.

“Beautiful,” Revan murmurs under her breath.

“Revan,” Bastila says, low, as she steps up to stand just a meter or two away. “I knew you’d come for me.”

“I told you I would,” Revan says. “I’d tear the galaxy apart to get back to you, if I had to.” She’d known that, but somehow it feels strange to say it aloud, both dangerous and a little freeing. Bastila’s emotions surge wildly at the statement, hope and longing and rage, and _Force,_ she’s beautiful, a blinding supernova, an endless storm no longer trapped inside a glass bottle, power and fury and an elegant grace Revan finds impossible to resist.

“Don’t lie to me!” Bastila snaps. “You could’ve shown me how the Council kept me trapped, how I was their pawn, how they manipulated me into using my battle meditation for their own gain while they treated me as a child! Instead you let me follow them blindly and _use me_ for their own gain, just as you used me!”

From behind her, Revan hears Jolee say, softly, “Oh, kid…” but Bastila doesn’t even seem to hear, not looking away from Revan’s face.

“Malak told me, Revan. He told me everything, how you wanted me as a _replacement_ to him, how you never _truly_ loved me, how it was all a ploy to gain my loyalty. How long would it be until you found a replacement for _me?”_ Revan’s eyes flash and she twists her mouth into a snarl at the very _idea_ \- Malak had _no right_ telling Bastila any of these things when _he’s_ the one who coveted Bastila and her powers first, when she would never have had to replace him if he hadn’t failed her so many times, if he hadn’t _betrayed_ her. How _dare_ he act like the victim in a situation entirely of his own making? “I know the message you had your pets on Korriban send out. All Sith who swear loyalty to Malak over you are traitors and will be treated as such. Well, Malak is my Master now, and by killing you I cement my place at his side as his apprentice!”

And Bastila flourishes her saber and lunges forward into an attack.

 _“Nobody touches her,”_ Revan commands, sharp and hard as the stone beneath her feet, and then she draws both her sabers and throws herself into the duel. If Bastila doubts Revan’s feelings for her - well. Revan will make her see.

Bastila has always been good, but now she’s incredible, fighting with a swiftness and a raw fury she’d never had before - she’d always been too afraid of releasing her emotions to fight with all the wild abandon within her, except for once: on Revan’s ship, the first time, when she’d prepared to face Revan with every ounce of power within her. Bastila is even more breathtaking now than she’d been back then, now that her full potential is unlocked, and it’s distracting enough at first that Revan has a hard time doing more than just evading and blocking her attacks.

But it doesn’t take long to pick up on Bastila’s improved fighting style, and Revan throws herself into the fight, taking advantage of the weaknesses in Bastila’s defense, dancing light on her feet, faster still than Bastila is, fighting with all of the same power and more of the control. And it is a dance, nearly, the two of them close enough to kiss at several moments, feet twirling around each other, separating and drawing back together, and the difference between love and hate has never been in the amount of passion it rouses.

In the end, of course, Revan is better, and she manages to lure Bastila into falling for a feint, use the slip to disarm her; the red dualsaber clatters to the stone near the edge of the roof and quick as a striking snake Revan brings both her sabers up in an X at Bastila’s neck.

And holds them there.

Revan meets Bastila’s eyes through the red and violet glow, for a long moment, watching as the resignation and fear turns to shock and hope turns to relief and utter _longing._

“You fool,” Revan breathes, dropping her sabers and returning them to her belt in one fluid motion, “I _love_ you, I would never replace you.”

Bastila kisses her. It’s similar and yet somehow so different from Kashyyyk, lightning and fire all at once, no more _physically_ passionate than before and yet somehow all the raw, unbridled emotion surging across their wide-open bond brings the contact to a new level.

“I never should’ve doubted you,” Bastila breathes when they finally separate, her hands still gripping either side of Revan’s breastplate. “I resisted for so long, but the things Malak _said_ about you- I’ve never had anyone love me before. I can’t believe I was so foolish.”

“It’s alright,” Revan promises. “I taught Malak how to break Jedi, you can’t blame yourself for believing what he said about me when he told you the truth about the Jedi Council. They _were_ using you, and I wanted so badly to break the chains holding you to them, but at the time you were too certain, if I’d said anything you would’ve gone running to the Council with it. Then, later… I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t want to push you away.” Revan reaches up and brushes Bastila’s hair out of her face, tucks it behind her ear, smiling at her. “Ask Juhani - if I’d had the chance I would’ve freed you.”

“About that,” Carth says, and Revan frowns, turning to face them, sliding her hand down Bastila’s arm to take her hand, the physical contact a much-needed reassurance for the both of them. “I promised to stay with you until we found Bastila, and we did. But I can’t let you go on to kill Malak and take the Star Forge as your own. So… when we first jumped into the system, I signalled the Republic fleet. They’ll be here soon. And I can’t let you leave this rooftop.”

Revan can’t _believe_ him. “I’m doing the right thing, Carth! Bastila and I are going to save the galaxy, isn’t that worth more than the Jedi and the Republic?” She shakes her head, looks over at Jolee. “What about you, old man? I suppose your _Jedi honor_ demands you follow Carth?”

Jolee looks pained, but he stands his ground. “I like you, kid,” he says in his rich voice. “So I’m gonna ask you not to do this. Let us turn off the disruptor field, let the Republic fleet destroy the Star Forge _and_ Malak, and we’ll let you and Bastila go without telling the Republic.”

Revan scoffs, shakes her head, hand tightening on Bastila’s as something tightens in her chest, leaving her feeling very nearly trapped, which is ridiculous. “I knew I’d probably have to kill you some day,” she says, harsh and biting. “I hoped I wouldn’t, but somehow I knew you’d never see sense.” She looks over at the third member of their little blockade, says, “Well, Juhani? Come on, there’s no arguing with either of them. This is what I trained you for.” And she holds out her free hand, similarly to how she’d reached out once before, months ago now, in a twisted grove surrounded by kath hounds, to a young girl who didn’t know how to escape her own chains.

And Juhani shakes her head. “No,” she says, softly, “you trained me as a contingency plan, in case you could not turn Bastila. Do not try and pretend you cared about me - I was always only ever second-best, and when Bastila was in the room you never even looked at me.” She sounds so much more _sorrowful_ than angry, and Revan doesn’t understand what she’s hearing, can’t believe this - she looks to Bastila, then back at Juhani, shaking her head in denial. “Let me speak,” Juhani says, more firmly, before Revan can do more than open her mouth. “I regret how long it took me to see that your obsessions with Malak and Bastila would always be more important to you than I was. I regret that I ever listened to you to start with - so much pain could have been avoided if I had just told the Jedi Council about you from the beginning.” Juhani shakes her head, sadly. “I now believe it would have been better for you to have lost your memories to begin with - maybe not for you, but for the galaxy, for me, and for Bastila.”

Bastila stiffens, eyes bleeding gold with fury, and Revan can’t blame her; she’s too shaken to summon the same anger, not yet. “How can you _say_ that?” she asks, shaking her head again. “The Council _used_ you, Juhani. Your own Master let you think you killed her because she was so certain you weren’t worth saving!”

“You used me too,” Juhani says simply. Her hand goes to her lightsaber, and Revan snarls, more defensively than she’d like, lets go of Bastila’s hand and ignites both her sabers once more.

“You know what happens to traitors,” Revan says, and Bastila nods, drawing her dualsaber. “You could’ve been my enforcer, Juhani, known and feared across the galaxy, and no one would’ve ever hurt you again.”

“I will _not_ be feared,” Juhani says, fierce. “I could not stop the Sith from destroying Dantooine, but I can stop you from destroying anything or anyone else.”

Jolee and Carth exchange a look, and then abruptly Jolee steps forward, and, in an entirely uncharacteristic move, launches an attack at Revan. She responds, lightning quick, and as she does, Jolee says, “Get out of here, both of you! I made my choice a long time ago.”

Bastila runs to put herself between Carth and Juhani and the door back down to the rest of the temple, but that’s not where Carth runs, dragging a reluctant Juhani with him as Jolee forces Revan away from them with a web of complex saber strikes she hadn’t even known he could use. Instead, Carth sprints for-

For Bastila’s shuttle. With its nullifier already attached and active.

Jolee has turned them so Revan’s back is to the temple door, to Bastila, and Bastila runs up next to her, preparing to throw her saber at the shuttle’s engines. Jolee drops his saber and flings up both his hands, a look of intense concentration on his face, and for a moment, just a moment, the Force is a swirling vortex around both Bastila and Revan herself.

She dispels it with a thought. But the shuttle is already taking off.

Revan _growls,_ spins her sabers furiously and whirls on Jolee, who hasn’t made a move to pick his back up off the ground. He stands there, serene, and gives her one last infuriating smile as she carves both sabers through his chest.

He falls to the rooftop and Revan can’t stop her chest heaving, anger pouring out of her - how _dare_ they betray her and just- just leave? Juhani was her _apprentice,_ she’d taught Juhani, given her the power to free herself, to never have to listen to the Jedi again, and the girl had thrown it all away for what? For some blind, dogmatic view of _morality?_

Revan is _saving the galaxy,_ she has no use or need for morality. She’d thought Juhani _understood_ that, that this is the right path, that it’s for the _greater good._

“She’s a fool,” Bastila says aloud, and Revan realizes her apprentice - her _apprentice,_ finally, after so long, she’ll laugh in Malak’s face over this - and lover has been following the thread of her thoughts. “But for now, she and Carth are out of our reach. We must focus on Malak, Master. The rest of our companions are waiting for us at the _Ebon Hawk,_ and I doubt any of them will be foolish enough to make the same decision.”

Revan forces herself to breathe, once, nods, and crosses the rooftop to the terminal controlling the disruptor field, shuts it off with a frustrated sigh. She’d been hoping to leave it up, to crush the Republic fleet as soon as it arrived in the system. But no matter.

“Right,” Revan says, taking a deep breath, shoving all her boiling rage down where she can draw from it but not let it overwhelm her - she’ll need all the power she can get in the fight up ahead. “We have the fleet to deal with as well, and I don’t know how long until they arrive.”

Malak still waits for them, too, secure in his belief that the Star Forge is impregnable, that Bastila is on his side, that Revan will be weakened or trapped here.

Revan lost to him once before. She will _never_ lose to Malak again.

* * *

It’s a long trek down to the beach where the rest of the _Hawk’s_ crew is waiting; Revan comms Canderous as they go, confirms that the hyperdrive and stabilizers have been repaired and the ship is ready to fly. Good. They have no time to waste - Malak has to be destroyed and the Sith fleet hers before the Republic arrives. She needs time to remind her officers who they swore loyalty to when they first followed her - _her,_ not Malak - into the Unknown Regions. 

“I could use my battle meditation to turn the tide if the Republic arrives early,” Bastila says, at one point, when Revan is explaining the situation, and she nods.

“I’d hoped to have you with me when I fought Malak, but you’re right, it’s a good backup plan.” If circumstances are going to force Revan to fight Malak alone, then she’ll just have to make sure he has no loyal Sith left in the Star Forge to trap her with.

They make it back to the ship and the rest of the crew is waiting outside; Mission perks up when she sees Revan and Bastila, but then frowns. “You got Bastila back, that’s good! But- where are the others? Carth and Juhani and Jolee?”

“That temple is a dangerous place,” Revan says calmly. “As for Carth, he only agreed to stay until we found Bastila - he took her shuttle and left the system. A shame, but nothing can be done about it.” She shakes her head, lifts a hand to quiet Mission’s next question, says. “You all know my plan: to land on the Star Forge and kill Malak. There have been some… complications, but I’m not going to let that stop me. I need all of you - so are you ready?”

“You know I am,” Canderous says, patting his rifle. “I don’t intend to miss out on the best fight since you took down Mandalore.”

“I have sworn a lifedebt,” Zaalbar says gravely, “and I may not like this, but I will follow you.”

That just leaves Mission. “I don’t know,” the teenager says, uncertainly. “But I said I’d stick with you until we killed Malak, and I meant it, so I guess… yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good.” Revan sweeps across the beach towards the _Ebon Hawk’s_ ramp, her crew following her in, and without Carth to fly the ship she sends T3 to handle it, to bring them up off the planet and begin a covert approach to the Star Forge. HK meets her at the holotable, interfacing with it to display the Star Forge’s schematics; once, Revan had these committed to memory, would’ve been able to formulate a plan without having to rely on her droid. But the Jedi Council took things from her, and so she has to study the schematics and their labels, refamiliarize herself with corridors she’s already walked, with the Star Forge’s various functions, until she has something like a rough plan in mind.

(A factory, it’s a factory, she realizes - remembers? - abruptly, a factory and so much more, capable of creating nearly anything without the restriction of raw materials, imbued with the Force itself, half space station and half monolithic entity, the power behind her empire.)

Once her crew is gathered around her, Revan begins to speak. “Canderous, I want you to go _carefully_ to the hangars, find the officers in charge of the fleet. Figure out who has heard my message and is loyal to me, and who’s still loyal to Malak. Get as much of the fleet staffed with people loyal to us as possible and have it arrayed in a defensive position around the Forge.” Canderous nods, leaning in to study the areas she’s highlighted, and she turns to Mission. “Mission, I have a special mission - ha - for you. I want you to go here,” and she points out the relevant area, “and sabotage the station’s internal defenses. I want to turn them on Malak’s Sith. There’s going to be guards there, but you’re clever, and you still have the stealth field generator I gave you, right?”

“Yeah.” Mission nods eagerly, and Revan grins. “I can do it, Revan.”

“Good, stay in touch with me. I may need you to reprogram the defenses again at some point - we have more enemies than just Malak now. HK, you and T3 will go to the droid production centers and make sure the droids are programmed to take orders from me, not Malak. Have some come down to protect the _Hawk,_ just in case Malak gets it in his head to steal my ship to escape.” She pauses a moment, looks over the map. “Bastila and I will be making our way through the Star Forge to confront Malak - Zaalbar, you can either come with us, as I may need you for something, or you can stay back and protect the _Hawk,_ it’s your choice.”

“I will stay,” Zaalbar rumbles. “I am little use against Sith.”

Revan nods, claps her hands together. “Well then. We have a plan.” And hopefully Mission won’t get squeamish if Revan needs her to reactivate the internal defenses against the Republic. It’d been a calculated decision, not mentioning the incoming fleet, but Canderous knows enough about warfare to understand why she’d want a defensive position, and she can always comm HK and send him to take over for Mission if it becomes a problem. “Canderous, cockpit, with me. The rest of you, get ready.”

Canderous follows her and Revan pats T3’s dome as she passes it, sliding into the pilot’s chair and settling her hands onto the controls. She hasn’t flown the _Hawk_ much, as Carth had enjoyed it, but she does know how to pilot a ship, probably better than he could anyway, with the Force. “What do you need, Revan?”

“Carth and Juhani are still out there,” Revan says, “and I don’t know if they’ve truly left the system or if they’re going to try and stop me from taking back the Star Forge. Also - Carth called the Republic fleet. I don’t know when they’re going to jump into the system, but I won’t let them ruin my victory. You know how to command a fleet?”

Canderous shrugs. “I know tactics. You’re the real genius, Revan, but I can help until you’re done with Malak.”

“Good.” Revan adjusts course slightly, aiming for one of the hangars on the lower decks - it’ll mean fighting through more of the Star Forge to get to Malak, if she’s right about where he is, but the others will be closer to their goals, and they’re less likely to be noticed. “I’m sending in clearance codes for the Star Forge now. They’re older, but should be accepted. If they aren’t, well, I guess we’ll get blown out of the sky.”

Canderous snorts. “Not the kind of death I’m hoping for, but I trust you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get ready.”

Revan nods, paying him little attention now as she transmits the codes, holds her breath until a comm comes back saying the codes have been accepted, they’re free to approach the Star Forge. “Send Bastila in, will you?”

The Star Forge looms large in the _Hawk’s_ viewscreen, sleek grey on the outside, a marvel of ancient construction like nothing the Republic has ever managed to achieve. Revan will learn the techniques the ancient Rakata used to build it, to infuse it with the Force, and eventually she’ll be able to create her own monument of power, to last for millennia. A reminder of her empire even when she’s long gone, like the Sith statues on Korriban.

But none of that will matter if she doesn’t stop Malak.

Revan lands the _Hawk_ in a narrow hangar with two small Sith fighters on either side, locks down the ship’s navicomputer, and squares her shoulders as she walks out of the cockpit, through the central living area and towards the ramp. Mission is chatting with Zaalbar as she straps on her stealth field generator, the lightweight blaster rifle Revan had gotten custom made for her slung over her shoulder. She looks eager, and Revan hopes the girl _understands_ that this is for the good of the galaxy. She’s a good kid, Revan truly would hate to have to kill her.

(But she won’t let that sentiment stand in her way, either.)

“Let’s go, Bastila,” she says, and lifts up her hood.

Malak awaits.

* * *

Revan remembers the Star Forge now, the way it slips softly against her awareness, a barely-there hum, just waiting for her to reach out and pour herself into it. If she had the time and the freedom, she could send her awareness into it entirely, following the Force currents infused into every trace metal to command the structure to do whatever she wants. If she had the time, she could use the Star Forge itself to kill Malak without ever setting foot in the same room as him.

But Malak would sense her meddling, if she did - he’s more than likely attuned to the Star Forge as well, by now. If he’s smart he’ll be using it to keep track of where she is - but she doesn’t think he will. Malak wants a real confrontation, and he more than likely thinks he’s untouchable here, in the seat of power he’s stolen.

The first deck is strangely empty; Revan suspects that Malak has somehow learned of the impending Republic attack and is preparing his fleet, trusting in the automated defenses. His mistake, of course. There _are_ droids, but Revan only has to work her way through a few waves of them before HK comms her to let her know he’s successfully taken control of the droid generation. Parts of it are in a separate system, he informs her, so it’s likely she’ll still have to deal with some droids on the higher levels, but for now, her path is clear, and he’s sending droids to reinforce Zaalbar at the _Hawk._

Good. 

She makes it to the second deck before it seems anyone’s been made aware of her presence - it’s like a switch has flipped, and she finds herself facing waves of Sith troopers and apprentices, appearing from side rooms or just patrolling the corridors, or even a couple lying in wait; Revan and Bastila fight back-to-back and really, none of them even have a chance, the poor fools. She keeps one of them alive, after she’s finished working her way through another group, questions him on Malak’s plans and knowledge, but he hardly knows anything other than that Malak is aware of Revan’s presence and has promised to make anyone who delivers the killing blow to Revan his own apprentice.

“He can’t be expecting any of these weaklings to succeed,” Bastila says, after Revan casually uses the Force to snap the apprentice’s neck and drops his dead body onto the floor to join his fellows. “He must know no one here can face you.”

“He’s trying to slow me down,” Revan says quietly. It would be a good strategy against anyone else - weaken her, tire her out, so that when she finally does make it to him she’ll be easy prey while he draws his power from the Star Forge around them. But Revan isn’t _anyone else,_ and she draws just as much power from her surroundings as he does. “He can’t afford to keep doing this for long, though. I suspect we’ll face fewer, but stronger forces as we get closer to him.”

Bastila nods, thoughtfully. Malak’s strongest Sith might actually be a challenge - they’re hardly the same caliber Revan would’ve trained them to be, but in the past she’d left Malak in charge of that while she handled the conquest and the recruitment. No matter how much control they lack, his elite Sith will have raw power and lightsaber skills. Some of them, Revan hopes, will understand it’s smarter to swear loyalty to her rather than die, but not all of them. Still, with Bastila by her side, Revan doesn’t fear any of Malak’s Sith; the two of them fight nearly as one now, the bond open wide and giving them a wordless coordination nearly impossible to beat.

In taking Bastila and breaking her to the Dark, Malak may have just created his own destruction.

They’re halfway through the third deck, fighting a mob of Sith troopers, when abruptly the heavy blaster turrets switch their aim from Revan and Bastila to the troopers, shredding them in moments, and then Mission comms to say she’s got control over all the internal defenses, including the security cameras.

“Good,” Revan tells her, and then discreetly sends HK up to… _reinforce_ her position. Just in case.

The Republic arrives as Revan is clearing out the deck’s computer room - the terminals here have saved her robes, and Malak’s, and some of the items of power they’d carried, and can replicate them with enough energy. Revan has control over half the Forge now. It’s easy enough to pull energy from nonessential systems for a moment to generate an appropriate set of Dark robes for Bastila… and a replica of Revan’s mask.

She picks it up out of the bin, ignoring Mission on the comms (the girl is saying something about _the Republic, you never said we’d be fighting them),_ and runs her fingers over the familiar lines, feels the power infused into it humming her palms. It’s tempting to put the mask on immediately, but Revan waits, instead slips it into a pocket on her belt that’s the perfect size, finally pulls out her holocomm to answer Mission properly.

“You said the Republic is here?” she asks, and Mission looks surprised but nods.

_“They’re attacking the Star Forge, and they’ve sent Jedi to board and come after us. I didn’t agree to fight the Republic, Revan!”_

“Mission,” Revan sighs, “sometimes we have to sacrifice things we care about for the sake of the galaxy. Things like the Republic and the Jedi. I talked to you about this, remember?” As she talks, she gestures for Bastila to follow her from the computer room, starts walking down the corridors to the turbolift that will take them to the command center. “We’re making the hard choices to save the galaxy. I need you to reactivate the internal defenses and set them to fire on the Jedi.”

 _“The Sith destroy planets, they’re the ones who bombed Taris! The Republic has always been good, I don’t understand how you could turn on them.”_ Mission looks upset, but she hasn’t refused - not yet. And Revan doesn’t have _time_ for this, she needs to get to Malak, but she doesn’t signal HK. She _likes_ Mission, and maybe Carth and Juhani made a fool’s mistake and _left her,_ but she won’t let Mission do the same.

“Malak has always been the one who destroyed things, Mission,” Revan explains. “Once we’ve won, maybe we can try to find a way to restore Taris, make it habitable again. Would you like that? Stick with me, Mission. I promise, I’m going to make the galaxy a better place. The Republic, they don’t understand that we have to _act_ if we’re going to fix things, but I know you do. Have I ever let you down?”

Mission’s quiet for a long minute, frowning, then she sighs and shakes her head. _“No, you haven’t. Okay, Revan - you promise we’re making things better?”_

“I do.” 

_“Then… I’ll turn the defenses back on.”_ Mission seems reluctant, but she _listened._ Revan hasn’t lost her touch, then - Carth was just spectacularly blind, and Juhani… 

Revan doesn’t want to think about Juhani.

“Thank you, Mission. I’ve got to go, but keep in touch if anything changes, okay?” She hangs up the comm, looks over at Bastila, smiles. “We’ve almost made it.”

“The Republic makes this more difficult,” Bastila points out, and Revan sighs. “Once we get to the command center I should use my battle meditation to help our fleet, or we risk the Star Forge being destroyed once we’ve killed Malak.”

Revan groans, but Bastila’s right. “Then it all comes down to Master versus Apprentice, in the end,” she says. “As it began, so must it end.” She shakes herself, forces a smile she doesn’t quite feel, even though she knows Bastila knows. “Let’s get you to the command center.”

The turbolift is heavily guarded - Malak has to be aware by now that he’s losing control of critical systems - but Revan and Bastila fight through it together, the thrill of the fight humming across the bond and amplifying itself. (Revan remembers, distantly, fighting side-by-side with Malak against the Mandalorians, glancing over in the middle of the battle to share a grin and a laugh, the two of them invincible as long as they had each other’s backs.) The adrenaline banishes any thought of tiredness out of Revan’s mind, and she makes quick work of the last of the defenders, steps into the turbolift and presses the button for the command center, Bastila entering and standing next to her.

The command center will be the most heavily fortified area, Revan knows. Malak will likely have his strongest apprentices there, and they’ll all know who they’re facing, be prepared. Revan will have no chance of turning them to her side, and really - if they’re that strong and still bowing down to _Malak_ of all people _,_ she hardly wants them anyway.

“Are you ready?” she asks Bastila as the turbolift lights flicker around them.

“Of course,” Bastila says, shoots Revan a confident, easy smirk. “As long as we fight by each other’s side, we’re untouchable.”

_(It’s you and me, as long as we stay together nobody can stop us.)_

“Oh, of course,” Revan agrees, nudges Bastila with a teasing smile. “Forgive me for asking such a stupid question.”

“Forgiven, I suppose.” Bastila lets out a long-suffering sigh, although there’s nothing but fond amusement across their bond. “We should focus, I think we’re reaching our destination.”

Sure enough, the turbolift dings, coming to a halt, and the doors slide open into a small hallway leading up to a large door. Revan can sense the dark presences beyond; just three of them, which surprises her a little, but she supposes Malak’s forces have been spread thin lately, and the Republic attack certainly isn’t helping. She draws both her sabers as she approaches the door, boots hardly making any sound on the floor, and the doors slide open just as silently.

The Sith within have their backs to her, at first, but she can tell they sense her presence by the way they stiffen and reach for weapons.

“This is your only chance,” Revan says, igniting both her blades. “Swear your loyalty to me now or face the consequences.”

“Do you _really_ want to face Darth Revan in the seat of her own power?” Bastila adds, voice dripping with scorn as the Sith just turn and ready themselves, though Revan can see her words having an effect on their morale if nothing else. Weakening their convictions will weaken their resolve, and thus their strength, however - Bastila is smart. “You’re all more foolish than I thought you’d be.”

“We are no fools!” the center Sith crows. “Malak will reward us with power beyond your imagination when we defeat you.”

Revan shakes her head. “A pity. I would’ve rewarded you with your lives.”

Before any of the three can answer, she leaps to attack.

The Sith _are_ good. Skilled with their sabers, and in tune with the Force, blocking Revan’s lightning or using their own command of the Force to counter her power. She can see why Malak chose them.

But all that skill won’t save them.

Revan and Bastila work together in tandem, fighting back to back, reaching into and through each other’s space in a coordinated, anger and darkness-fueled dance, wearing the Sith down one by one, as eventually all their energy reserves run dry, and then their command of the Force fails them. The first one to fall misses a bolt of lightning from Revan’s fingers; the second is impaled on Bastila’s dualsaber as she ignites one of the blades directly through his abdomen.

The third they kill together, in a smooth, swift motion.

Revan is breathing hard by the time they finish, and she wipes the sweat off her forehead, returns her sabers to her belt and crosses the room to inspect computer terminals and sensors. “Our fleet is losing,” she says. “We’re taking too many losses - Carth must’ve warned them.”

“The traitor,” Bastila hisses, fury spiking across their bond. “I will remain here and use my battle meditation, but if something goes wrong, use our bond and I’ll come to help you.”

Revan nods, leaning against a console and taking a few deep breaths, giving herself time to regain some strength. She’s fought Malak many times before, since they were young and it was nothing more than friendly spars; later on they fought each other to hone their skills against the Mandalorians, and then with wild abandon once they were both Sith, always pushing each other to be better, do better, fight harder, extend their limits again and again. 

Somehow, until the _Leviathan,_ they’d never _truly_ fought with the intent to kill.

“I’ll find you here once I’m done,” Revan says, firmly, straightens up and gives herself one last breath before she starts for the far door. “He’s not far - the viewing platform. I can sense him.”

“So can I,” Bastila says as she settles down on the floor. “You can do this, Revan - you’re stronger than him. You’ve survived everything he’s tried to do to you. This is your destiny.”

Revan smiles, pauses by Bastila to briefly bend down and squeeze her shoulder, the touch a comfort. “I know.”

* * *

Malak has his back to the doors, standing at the far end of the viewing platform, hands behind his back as he watches the battle through the massive viewscreens. Captive Jedi hang in electrical prisons around the area, Revan can feel them, a whisper in the Force, suspended between life and death, their power ripe for the taking. Malak must’ve brought them here to use in his fight against her, but Revan has no qualms in stealing their power for herself - not yet, though.

She walks down the walkway towards where the viewing platform opens up into a large semicircle, her pace measured, deliberate, hood down, mask still tucked away, for now. (A thread of memory, previously forgotten: Malak standing here, watching as the beginnings of a fleet amassed outside, and Revan walking up to join him, pulling her mask off as she did, coming up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her apprentice, the two of them together as always as they prepared to lead an assault on the galaxy.)

“Malak,” she says.

Her old apprentice turns, slowly, to face her, solemn, dark eyes locking onto hers. “Revan,” he says. “So you have come - I knew you would. Where’s your precious new apprentice?”

 _“Bastila,”_ and Revan stresses the name, fighting back the anger, “is keeping my fleet from being destroyed and beating back the Republic, which you would’ve failed to do. You never were the greatest tactician.”

Malak chuckles darkly, shakes his head. “And yet it’s taken you this long to reach me. No matter. _Your_ fleet, is it? Admit it, Revan, this fleet has always been _ours._ We found the star maps together, took control of this place together, turned its dark power on the Republic together. Without me, you never would’ve found the Star Forge to begin with, and your crusade would’ve died before it ever began.”

Revan scoffs - does he seriously believe that? She’s never _needed_ him, she could’ve had any former Jedi she chose as her apprentice, and yet she chose him. And he turned his back on her. “You betrayed me, Malak,” she says, shaking her head. “If you’d listened to me, done what I told you, we could’ve been the undisputed rulers of the galaxy by now - but you decided you were better than me, you wanted more than you were worth, and so you took the _coward’s_ way out.”

If he’d had the guts to challenge her to a duel for the title, she would’ve at least respected him; he never would’ve _won,_ of course, but he would’ve had honor, and he would’ve been remembered as a true Sith. Revan might’ve even spared him, after she defeated him. He’d still had his uses, after all.

“You betrayed me _long_ before I ever made any move against you,” Malak snaps, voice harsh and full of rage. “You don’t see it, do you? As willfully blind as ever. You’d sacrifice the entire galaxy if it meant you could keep your eyes closed.”

“Enough of this!” Revan yanks out her sabers, sliding into an offensive stance. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to _save_ the galaxy, not that you seem to understand what that means. I’m not here to _talk,_ Malak. You betrayed me, you stole my empire, you destroyed planets, and you _took Bastila._ For all that and more, you deserve death.”

Malak pulls out his own lightsaber, says, “Eager for blood, are you? Very well, so am I. Let’s finish this, in the ancient tradition: master versus apprentice.”

And he attacks.

(Alek has a training saber in his hands and a light in his eyes as he swings it at Revan, following the scripted motions of the katas they’re supposed to be practicing together. Instead of stepping up to block like she’s supposed to, though, Revan ducks out of the way and lightly smacks her training saber into his saber arm; Alek yelps, drops his, and tackles her, poking her in the sides where he knows she’s ticklish, and she shrieks out, _that’s not fair!_ even as she can’t stop the giggles.

 _You’re the one who broke the kata first! That’s what you get._ Alek laughs too, and soon enough they’re both flopped on the floor by each other, training sabers forgotten, the room filled with warmth and light and love.)

Revan ducks to one side, swings a saber out, and he steps back and blocks, pivots so they’re facing each other again. She doesn’t give him time to set up, just launches forward again, a series of sharp slashes at his face and upper body that he moves with, dodges, forces her to fall back onto the defensive with a heavy two-handed blow. She catches it on her violet saber, extends herself to cut at his stomach with the red one, and Malak throws out his hand, sends her skidding backwards with a pulse of Force. Revan digs her sabers into the floor to slow her movement, keeps her balance, stays at a distance for a moment to watch him.

“You weren’t this good when we fought on the _Leviathan,”_ she says as he closes the distance between them again, launching back into the fight.

Malak doesn’t answer right away, waits until another gap in the fighting before he says, “I’ve always been better than you’ve been willing to admit.”

(Blue flashes against purple as Revan attacks in a flurry, her lightsaber almost seeming alive in her hands as she hammers against Alek’s guard; there have been rumors of war coming, from the Outer Rim, and they have to be ready for when the Republic calls on the Jedi for aid. Revan and Alek are the best young Knights in the Order now, they’ll be needed. A part of Revan has always known she is meant to go to war.

Revan’s attack falters for less than a heartbeat and Alek’s blue lightsaber is suddenly coming at her face; she swears and ducks, abandoning the spar to shove at him. _You could’ve burned my hair._

_Your hair, really, that’s what you’re worried about?_

_Shut up, I like it._

_I’d worry more about your face, especially if you’re going to keep missing blocks like that,_ Alek says, and the two of them share a grin.

Then Revan kicks him in the knee. _That’s for being a smartass.)_

The fight wears on, back and forth across the wide platform, up onto the raised level and back down again, sabers clashing. Revan scores a few minor wounds across Malak’s body, and he manages to sear a line down the edge of her arm, weakening her offhand and sending pain jarring through her entire arm every time she uses it. She grabs onto the pain, clenches it between her teeth and lets it fuel her.

She ducks under a strike, sliding sideways, and the smell of charred hair fills the room, and the very end of her braid hits the floor, the rest of her hair coming unbound and flying around her face. It blinds her, for just a moment, and in the breath it takes to blow it out of her eyes Malak’s over by one of the imprisoned Jedi, using the Force to drain away their life and power into him. She sees him visibly strengthen, minor wounds closing up, and, well, two can play at this game, so Revan focuses her awareness on the Jedi nearest her, drawing the life and power away from them. Her arm doesn’t completely heal, but it’s enough that when she flexes it it barely twinges, and the Force lends a lightness to her feet and her arms as she leaps across the room to Malak and attacks in a fury again.

There are six Jedi left.

It becomes a game, almost, seeing how far she can push Malak before he’ll break away, knowing that the moment either of them takes more than a few steps away the other will also go for one of the captive Jedi and return, revitalized and stronger even than before. How many little injuries can they inflict on each other, how long until the exhaustion gets to be too much.

Malak breaks first, but before he does it he somehow - Revan doesn’t even catch the move, and that worries her more than she’d expected - knocks one of her sabers out of her hands and lands a hit on her hip, sending her reeling, violet saber automatically coming up to defend as she shoots her newly-empty hand out to call her saber back to her. But he doesn’t take advantage, instead rushes over to one of the Jedi, and Revan stumbles over to one herself, pulls the life and power into her to heal her wounds. 

He’s wearing her down. He’s physically stronger than she is, probably has more endurance - she can’t play the waiting game. She has to get rid of the rest of the Jedi _now,_ force a last long fight to the end, to his death, because Revan _will not lose._

 _(Just because the Revanchists followed you instead of me doesn’t mean you can give me orders,_ Malak snaps, tired and frustrated from the long slog through the mud fighting the Mandalorians, and from the spar they’re in the middle of, sabers crossed and straining against each other.

 _That’s not how I meant it and you know it,_ Revan says, breaks the bladelock and spins away, one saber straight out in front of her, the other off to the side. _But when we address the soldiers we have to be a unified front, we have to support each other. If they see us arguing it’ll drop their morale and they’re already low enough after the Cathar massacre news._

 _Your plan was wrong, though. And you didn’t discuss it with me beforehand._ Malak goes on the attack, a handful of short swipes before he backs off, resumes circling.

_My plan worked!_

_At what kind of cost?_

Revan shakes her head, abandons the circling to lunge in and close with him again, pouring her frustration into the duel. _We have to stop thinking about the losses - or potential losses - if we’re going to crush the Mandalorians. The people we lose sacrifice themselves so the galaxy will end up better off, so we can save more. They knew that when they followed us._

_Maybe so, but-_

Revan knocks his saber out of his hand and hovers both her blades in an X at his neck. _I need you to stand with me, Malak. I need to know you’re on my side._

_I’m always on your side, Revan.)_

One Jedi left. Revan finishes draining the essence from the second to last one as Malak leaps at her with a heavy, overhead slash that she catches on both crossed sabers. He bears down on her, using his superior strength to force all three sabers ever-closer to her face, and then Revan drops to her knees, gathers the Force and _shoves_ both hands out to knock him back as he loses his balance. She’s back on her feet again in an instant, movements augmented by the Force, and as Malak recovers she darts over to the last Jedi and reaches out to drain the life from them.

“Now it’s just us, Malak,” Revan says, “just you and me. No more power to drain, just sheer talent. And we both know who wins in that scenario.”

“Bold words for someone who lost the last time we fought,” Malak says, and charges her again.

They end up on the upper ring of the viewing platform, sabers flashing against each other as Revan’s fleet slowly but inexorably destroys the Republic’s behind them. A part of Revan wonders, as a fighter zooms past the viewscreen, if those outside can see the battle taking place within, if they know she’s fighting for the fate of the galaxy.

It’s always about the fate of the galaxy.

Revan has known from a young age she would go to war. There just never seems to be an end to the enemies she has to fight. And she _will_ fight anyone who stands in her way: the Republic, the Jedi, the Mandalorians, Vitiate, her once-closest friend.

After all, she’s the one protecting the galaxy, even if they don’t see it. 

(Revan’s eyes glow gold as she slams her new red saber into Malak’s guard, gets in close, drives her foot into his stomach and then hits him with a wave of the Force. He stumbles, grunting, rights himself and sends a blast of lightning, and she catches it on her sabers, gritting her teeth as she struggles with the force of it. There’s a small audience (a couple of officers, she’d seen Saul Karath among them watching almost hungrily, the rest Sith) watching as the lightning fades and she recovers, launches at Malak again, the clash and hum of their sabers filling up the room to the brim.

She brings her saber in hard at his face, and as he brings up his own to block, she deactivates the blade for half a second to bash the hilt into his nose and jaw; Malak’s lip curls as she vaults back, away from retaliation, and he spits blood off to one side, rage building in his eyes. They rarely talk when they fight, these days, the arguments having already happened - and there are arguments, so many of them. They spend more time apart than together and the connection between them is corroded, like a durasteel beam soaking in acid.

Malak charges, but he doesn’t slow when he reaches her, sweeping her up in his momentum until her back thuds into the wall and her own sabers are perilously close to her head. He’s smiling, sharp and angry and satisfied, and so Revan gives him a moment to let him think he’s won, and then she draws back and slams her forehead into the bridge of his nose.

She can hear the bones shatter, and he’s dazed by it, and so she knees him in the crotch, yanks his feet out from under him with her own, and drops to sit on his chest.

Revan lets her sabers get close enough to his neck to burn before she stands and wordlessly leaves the room.)

Malak will win if he’s able to draw things out. Revan knows that. So she doesn’t give him the chance, fighting with a blur of lightsabers and the Force and her own body, forcing him on the defensive, recklessly burning through all her reserves of strength and power to stay lightning-fast and everywhere at once. In the end, what finally ends the duel is the first trick she’d ever used on him, all those many years ago.

He tries an attack.

Revan steps to the side instead of countering, and her saber comes up and cleaves through his forearm. And Malak’s hand - and lightsaber - go flying through the air, clattering against the durasteel floor somewhere behind her, Revan doesn’t look. She brings both her sabers up as Malak falls to his knees, his hand cradling the stump on his arm, and scissors them across his neck, holding them there, not moving.

 _“Damn_ you,” Malak snarls, face white with pain, but eyes hard with anger. “Going to kill me, are you, and run off to my replacement? How long will she last, a year, five years? You’ll get tired of her eventually, you’ll find someone better. It’s what you do.”

“You have a high opinion of yourself and a low opinion of me if you think I’d be so desperate to replace _you,”_ Revan says derisively, her hands steady on her saber hilts. She should just kill him now. She _should._ But she supposes he’s earned a chance to say what he thinks.

Malak laughs, a strangely hollow sound, devoid of amusement. His presence in the Force is as dark as ever, but it seems exhausted and resigned, the wrath that’d sustained him throughout their fight drained away. “No, Revan, I have an honest opinion of both of us. We’re the _same,_ you and I. You’re no better than me.”

“Liar,” Revan growls, shoves her sabers closer to his neck, but Malak won’t be silenced.

“Of the two of us, only one has always been the liar, and it’s never been me, Revan. You led me into the darkness and turned me into what I am now, and when you didn’t like what I’d become, you replaced me.”

“I replaced you because you were weak!” Revan’s chest is heaving, her hands no longer steady. Malak is a liar, he’s just jealous of Bastila, angry because he’s lost, and she’s won. Angry that after all this time he can’t beat her. Angry and unable to admit that he never has been able to to begin with. “Even before you betrayed me, you were barely my apprentice. I didn’t _need_ you for any of my victories, I just kept you around because you were useful. Sometimes you need brute force to prove a point in a situation, and in the end that’s all you are - a brute.”

Malak laughs again and Revan nearly cuts his throat in response. “I am what you made me,” he says, and she clenches her jaw, tightens her grip around her sabers until her knuckles go white. “You made me into this, and you’ll do it to Bastila too. After all, she and I are the same - we were both powerful, and warm, and brilliant, that’s why you liked us.” He pauses, something shifting in his eyes, and then adds, “And both of us know what it’s like to have a Force bond with you.”

Revan freezes, sabers lowering a touch without her meaning to, eyes widening, the shock driving back the fury rising in her throat. “What?” she forces out.

He looks surprised. “All the things you remembered, and that’s what you’ve forgotten? Curious… perhaps the Jedi’s mind wipe did in fact work, in some areas. Yes, Revan - you and I had a bond, once, similar to the one you now share with your new apprentice. It formed when we were young, and lasted until my betrayal of you. Its disappearance is why I believed you were dead at first.”

Revan can do nothing but stare, for a moment, then she shakes her head. “Bastila is better than you in every imaginable way,” she says, voice trembling from the strain of holding back her anger; Malak dares to insinuate that it’s somehow _her_ fault he became a brute with no self-control, when if he’d only just listened to her this entire mess would’ve been avoided - he tries to say he and Bastila are the same, as though that’s the only reason she wants Bastila, he says they had a _bond,_ as though she’d ever want anything like that with him. (He’s telling the truth about the bond, she knows - if she looks, she can feel the missing shape of it in her memories.)

(He’s telling the truth about everything else, too.)

Malak shakes his head, sagging back onto his heels; he looks nearly woozy from the pain. “Believe what you like, that’s what you’ve always done.” His voice turns- strange, nearly fond, definitely nostalgic, going fainter - he’s burned himself out, and the shock of his injury is enough he’ll lose consciousness soon. She doesn’t plan to let him wake up. “Do you remember when we were children? We said it would always be us together, against the galaxy. Yet I think- somehow I knew. I always knew how it would end.”

“How will it end?” Revan asks in a whisper, unsure why she responds at all, unsure why she feels nearly conflicted, for a moment, unsure why she cares. Whatever they were, before, he destroyed it a long time ago. It doesn’t _matter._

Malak looks up at her, meets her eyes one last time. “In darkness,” he says, barely a rasp, and then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses.

Revan stands there, for a long moment, and then, almost in a daze, she stabs one still-lit lightsaber into his neck, and then she turns and walks away.

* * *

Bastila is waiting for her in the command center. The Republic fleet outside is destroyed, Canderous had reported on her way back from the viewing platform. Their victory is complete.

Revan had smiled, had promised to meet him soon, had asked him to spread the message that she’d be addressing everyone shortly from the top of the Temple of the Ancients on the planet below. And she will - but she can’t quite get Malak’s voice out of her head. Can’t quite stop thinking of Juhani’s last speech to her.

Can’t quite forget the memory of two young children laying side-by-side on the floor of a Jedi training room, sides aching from laughter, content and secure in the knowledge that this would be them, forever, against whoever dared try and break them apart.

“Revan!” Bastila says, relief coloring her voice, and she rushes across the room to pull Revan into a tight hug. Revan can’t help melting into it, buries her face for a moment in Bastila’s soft hair, just breathing in the warmth and solidity of her. “I was starting to worry- But of course I shouldn’t have, you’re amazing.”

Revan laughs, pulls back and brushes her thumbs over Bastila’s cheeks, enjoying the way the young woman blushes even as she leans into the touch. “There was never any doubt I’d win,” she says, smiling. “There’s a reason Malak was my _apprentice,_ after all.”

“Well, I’m still relieved you’re back,” Bastila says. “Having nothing to do but wonder who would come through those doors was driving me crazy.”

“I could try driving you a different kind of crazy,” Revan says with a grin and a wink, pulling on the brashness she’d often had back when she was pretending to be a spacer, “see if that would help?”

“You are _ridiculous,”_ Bastila informs her, but she tugs Revan down for a kiss anyway, and as the warmth of it all soaks through her, Revan decides she doesn’t care about Malak’s lies, whatever insecurities he was trying to sow. “What are you grinning about?”

“I love you,” Revan says in response, and reaches into her belt to carefully pull her mask out of the pocket she’d been storing it in. “Now let’s go address our empire.”

And she fits the mask neatly over her face.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, Revan is a super unreliable narrator. yes, Bastila is a replacement for Malak, yes, Revan loves her, the two aren't mutually exclusive. yes the SF is a trap that Revan walked right into and is still caught in. and yes, Revan putting her mask on at the end of the fic is symbolic of her choosing to ignore all the ways the events of this fic showed her how she's lying to/hiding from herself and how she could get better, instead symbolically going back to the same person she was before all of this with a new apprentice at her side.
> 
> i hope yall enjoyed this massive deep dive into what's probably the most fucked up Revan i will ever write. cheers and remember to leave a comment if you enjoyed it! <3

**Author's Note:**

> yes, Revan is a super unreliable narrator. yes, Bastila is a replacement for Malak, yes, Revan loves her, the two aren't mutually exclusive. yes the SF is a trap that Revan walked right into and is still caught in. and yes, Revan putting her mask on at the end of the fic is symbolic of her choosing to ignore all the ways the events of this fic showed her how she's lying to/hiding from herself and how she could get better, instead symbolically going back to the same person she was before all of this with a new apprentice at her side.
> 
> i hope yall enjoyed this massive deep dive into what's probably the most fucked up Revan i will ever write. cheers and remember to leave a comment if you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
